Entropy SG1 Crossover
by Jedi Bleiddyn
Summary: Moving on is never easy, but then again neither is living forever. SG1Highlander Crossover. WIP
1. Default Chapter

**Entropy**   
**Author:** Jedi Bleiddyn

**Rating:** PG-13 (just to be safe, might be R later)   
**Disclaimer:** I don't own either Stargate or Highlander   
**Spoilers:** None really, unless you have not yet seen season 7 or the episode Hero of Stargate.   
**Season:** Season 7 of Stargate and post-Season 6 of Highlander

**Summery:** Moving on is never easy, but then again neither is living forever.

**Author's notes:** I felt it was just stupid for Dr. Fraser to be killed off on Stargate, seriously how many times have they all tap danced with death yet get pulled back at the last second either by luck or divine intervention... so I said to myself 'Self, let's give her a proper send off.'

**FYI – No Beta and first story ever published online - Comments wanted.**

**Revised 11/10/04 - just tweeked some wording cause it urked me.**

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**en·tro·py** (ntr-p) n. pl. en·tro·pies 

Symbol S For a closed thermodynamic system, a quantitative measure of the amount of thermal energy not available to do work.   
A measure of the disorder or randomness in a closed system.   
A measure of the loss of information in a transmitted message.   
The tendency for all matter and energy in the universe to evolve toward a state of inert uniformity.   
**Inevitable and steady deterioration of a system or society.**

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**U S Air Force Academy Hospital – 1:57am   
Basement Level – Morgue**

The room was brightly lit. The only noise save the constant humming of the refrigeration units that lined the far wall and the gentle buzzing of the overhead lights is the intermediate sound of writing as the lone occupant of the room finishes off the final page of his paperwork concerning the latest delivery to the morgue.

Yawning quietly the duty Nurse takes a sip and grimaces at the taste of his now tepid coffee. Finishing off the final notation the sharp click of a ballpoint being closed fills the room followed by the squeaking of an office chair then the sound of footsteps as the duty Nurse leaves the morgue to head towards the cafeteria and a fresh cup of coffee.

**U S Air Force Academy Hospital – 2:00 am   
Basement Level – Morgue Locker #3**

A choking gasp as once dormant lungs struggle to draw in the first of many breaths. The covered figure spends the next several minutes regaining their focus; eyes adjust to the darkness as hands slowly push aside the linen shroud and map out the small metal space of the storage locker.

It's hard to put into words what it feels like to die then wake up, the old adage 'walking a mile in another's shoe's' is very appropriate with regards to this aspect of being an Immortal. Depending on the extent and severity of the fatal wound received or even the climate in which death occurred resurrection can take as little as 10 minutes or as long as 24 hours, so it is with little surprise that she found herself in a storage locker in what she could only guess was the U S Air Force Academy Hospital's morgue.

Running her fingers slowly along the cold metal of the door she sighs and hopes that there is no one in the room beyond the small door. It's never a pleasant sending a poor Pathologist or his assistant into cardiac arrest with your grand exit but if she stayed much longer in the locker death would claim her again, this time from hypothermia.

Scrunching up as close to the door as she and closing her eyes to picture how it should open. Then rests both her hands against the right seam and shove outward with all her might, forcing the door open with a click. It swings out to the left and connects with a solid thump against another lockers' door. Grasping the lip of the wall she pulls herself and the tray she rests on outward, allowing her to swing her legs to the side and drop to the cold tile floor.

Shivering as she glances around the painfully bright room, blinking several times to help her eyes adjust to light once again she slowly walks towards the door. As she stands there by the main door ensuring no one was coming she just now notices her lack of clothing, knowing full well that SOP for any off-world death was to strip the body before it left the Mountain, and from the feel of her skin she'd also been disinfected to prevent any unknown microbes from using her body as a means to set up residence on Earth.

It's been too long since she's had to do this with fate and fortune both having allowed her in the past to 'arrange' for simple public suicides or the like in order to end one life when the need to move on presented itself. Gathering the simple white linen cloth that had been her shroud and fashioning it into a functional but not very warm sarong, she silently pads to the big swinging bay doors at the mouth of the room... pushing them open slowly checking both ends of the hall and makes sure no one is coming.

Knowing what was needed and that time was working against her chances of success the next few minutes where spent pushing the tray back into the locker and securing the door closed when she freezes... the reflection staring back at her from the stainless steel surface, the woman she had been was dead to all that mattered... friend... lover... mother... Doctor... Janet Fraser's brown eyes stared back at her.

Shaking out of this trance she moves towards the rooms' lone small alcove that served as the office and searching through the stack of folders in the Pathologists in-box for her file.

Finding it buried towards the bottom she pulls it out, flipping through the folder with a detachment born from hundreds of years of ingrained survival instincts. She ignores the information she knows is there on the line denoting next of kin and cause of death and picks up the duty Nurses discarded pen.

With her left hand instead of her right she adds a new notation to the file, stating that after delivery the body was forwarded on the Peterson Air Base for autopsy and pickup by a local funeral home.

Examining the notation and satisfied that the writing looks nothing like her own she returns the folder to Pathologists in-box. The results of her notation would, though not kind to those she still loved, provide the most convenient excuse for there being no body found for cremation.

Squaring her shoulders and knowing that now was not the time for grief or regret she silently moves to the main doors and after looking and listening once again for the tell tale sounds of movement. Neither hearing nor seeing anything she crosses to the morgue's supply closet, opening the door and disappearing inside only to emerge moments later clad in a set of pale green surgical scrubs.

Sighing as she runs her fingers through her short auburn hair as she realizes she has neither shoes nor a way to leave the Academy grounds. Glancing at the large wall clock and knowing the duty Nurse is likely to return at any moment, she moves towards the main doors and peaks out. Seeing that the hallway and probably the whole basement level given the time was empty, she slips out and moves down the hall towards the rear service elevator and with any luck freedom.

As she moves farther away from the morgue she starts to debate with herself. Shouldn't she just pick up the phone and call General Hammond, given their line of work a plausible story could be crafted.

Sighing she shakes her head and keeps moving. No, it was time to move on.

With the likes of that bastard Senator Kinsey and the NID constantly watching Stargate Command it was too much of a risk. Should the NID learn the fact that she was not healed by the Asgard or some random miracle; that she wasn't just a single anomaly and well the possible results of the truth coming to light... she'd seen first hand from being trapped in Paris during the German blitzkrieg that swept over continent in the 1930's. And she had no desire to be rounded up with other Immortals and kept behind barbed wire.

No General Hammond's clout with the Joint Chief's had its limits and she was reluctant to risk not only hers but the lives of other Immortals on an uncertainty. It wasn't her place or her decision to make, so she did what she'd always done for the past 2500 years. She would move on and begin anew.

Janet Frasier was for all purposes dead, may she rest in peace.

(More to come I hope)


	2. 2

((Browning belongs to Browning; the BBC belongs to the BBC - just using there names for the story nothing more))

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**Colorado Springs, Colorado**

**Frasier Residence – 3:24am**

Bare feet silently tread through the damp grass surrounding the simple 2 story ranch house she had called her home for the last 12 years. There was little fear of being discovered, instinctively knowing that her adoptive daughter Cassie was most likely with one or all of the only people that constituted as her 'family' – Major Samantha Carter... Dr. Daniel Jackson... Teal'c.

There's only one person who might not be there... Colonel Jack O'Neill. The last thing she remembered was the sight of him struggling to buy her one more moment and then crumpling to the floor of the alien forest on P3X-666, a smoking wound to his chest easily recognizable in those few moments just before a Jaffa's staff blast struck her in the chest killing her instantly. She hoped that his luck had held out.

Swallowing down regret that was starting to physically make itself known in the back of her throat she moves with purpose towards the small shed at the back of the yard.

Struggling to harvest enough light to see the combination lock with from the overhead streetlamp, her mind recounts her escape from the Academy Hospital. Leaving the grounds had proved easier then she could have dreamed with fate having taken providence upon her.

_(Flashback)__After leaving the morgue she had followed the length of the corridor to the service elevator; pressing the button and nervously glancing around in the terse moments as the elevator makes is slow journey down to the basement. Holding her breath as the door part, revealing an empty car she ducks in quickly and hits the button for the first floor. _

_The elevator slowly rises up to the next floor, the door opening on a deserted hallway next to the cafeteria kitchen. Slipping silently into the cavernous kitchen she finds it empty, only the hum of the giant refrigerators and ice machines break the early morning silence._

_Moving farther back down the only other corridor besides the door leading to the serving line, the sight of her chariot greeted her like the preverbal light at the end of the tunnel; sitting directly across from the passage that lead from the loading dock to the kitchen was the open back of a delivery van for the Hospital's kitchen._

_And as she glanced around the dock, one that looks like it had just finished making its delivery, because several pallets of food are scattered in orderly lines around the dock most of which would conceal her path into the back of the van from anyone watching._

_Steeling herself she edged closer to the loaded pallets and glancing towards the loading dock offices. Through the large window overlooking the dock she spots the Staff Sergeant in charge talking to a civilian worker, who she hopes is the driver of the delivery van._

_Seeing that their attention is focused on the clipboard held in front of them, she ducks low and makes a dash from the hallway for the pallet of food closest to the van._

_Leaning to the side and glancing at the office window she notices that the two men are no longer standing before of the window. As she moves to get a better look the office door starts to swing outward, knowing that this is her one chance at escape she makes her move and dashes into the back of the van, quickly tucking herself between the giant stacks of wooden pallets piled along the van's metal wall._

_As she steady's her breathing and listens to the sounds around her, she hears the scrap of metal then the van sways as the rear door is pulled shut followed by the clunking thump of the latch being closed and the snap of a padlock tell her she was not seen._

_Leaning forward carefully to examine the van she notices that the drivers' compartment was not walled off from the van's storage compartment, meaning all she had to do was wait for the driver to take his break and she would slip out unseen._

_Pulling back into her small hiding spot as she hears the drivers' side door open, the unmistakable feeling that she is no longer alone in the van, the jingle of keys then the roar of the engine follow._

_The trip towards the rear Campus gate was a tense one, but once the guard at the gate gave a cursory search of the back the van was waved through, she finally released a tense breath she didn't know she was holding._

_Closing her eyes she starts to mentally draft a list for her to do now that she can no long be Janet Frasier...sighing softly she mutters to herself in Ancient Greek _'_Well Kallisto... what name this lifetime?'_

Having on the fourth try finally gotten the combination lock on the shed open, she steps inside and shuts the door behind her. Groping gently along the right wall her fingers brush against the lip of the storage shelf there and moving around slowly her fingers brush against the flashlight kept in the shed.

Switching it on she moves across the small space towards the back, there upon the bottom shelf was the rubber chest she was looking for. Sliding the large container out and to the floor she pulls off the lid and removes the old sleeping bag she had stuffed on top of the emergency kit that she had kept if just such a situation occurred.

At the bottom under the sleeping bag rested a simple blue backpack and underneath that, a large black metal attaché case.

The backpack though was a recent addition to her 'escape kit', but the attaché had essentially always been her constant companion in one form or another throughout the years.

The case contained all that she needed in order to disappear; several forms of hard currency, temporary documentation that would get her as far away from Colorado as she needed, and finally a 9mm Browning Hi-Power with three spare magazines of ammunition. The pistol was to keep her from 'losing her head' before being able to make it to Denver. Not very honorable, but then there was no honor in losing your head to an eager hunter.

This previous life had been stable enough that she had felt safe keeping her swords in a storage locker in downtown Denver, the keys to which resided in a compartment of the attaché.

Pulling the backpack out first she sets it on the ground and unzips it pulling out a prepaid cell phone still in its display box along with a fully charged battery, and a change of cloths consisting of denim jeans, a sweatshirt and lastly a pair of old tennis shoes.

Setting the flashlight on its side she quickly strips out of the surgical scrub pants and slipping into the jeans then toeing on the comfortable shoes, deciding to leave the scrub top on give how close it was getting to winter in Colorado, and pulls the thick sweatshirt over her head.

Now fully dressed she stuffs the scrub pants into the backpack, pulls the metal attaché case from the rubber tub and returns the sleeping bag inside it, then reseals the lid. Sitting on the top of the container she sets about removing the phone from its packaging and after a few moments has it working, placing a call for a cab to come and pick her up at the corner of her block. Clipping the phone to her hip she gathers up the packaging and stuffs it into the backpack on top of the discarded scrubs.

Turning to the open attaché she takes out a few hundred dollars in both twenties and hundreds, rolling the money up and tucking it into her right front pocket.

She then slips two of the three loaded magazines into her left front pocket; picking up the Hi-Power she pulls back the slide locking it into place, she slaps into place the third magazine into the handle and thumbs the slide release loading the pistol.

Ensuring that the safety is on, she tucks the cold metal frame into her waistband at the small of her back and pulls the one size too large sweatshirt over her waistband effectively concealing it from view. With this last action complete she closes the case with a solid click.

Unbidden her mind likens the click to that of a casket lid being closed for the final time, sighing she oepns the door and sets the case and backpack down on the damp grass outside the shed door stepping out into the yard.

Using the flashlight to examine the inside of the shed to ensure nothing is out of place; assured everything is in its proper place she clicks off the flashlight and returns it to the shelf. Pulling the door shut she pushes the padlock together it with a solid click then spins the dial to reset the tumblers.

Slinging the backpack over her shoulder, she picks up the case and moves towards the corner. Moments later a yellow cab pulls up, opening the back door she slips in and closes the door. Glancing out the rear window one last time, she pauses then turns to the driver and speaks, "Drive."

As the cab pulls away from the small house; another car parked halfway down the opposite side of the block starts up to follow after the cab.

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**Downtown Denver**

**Palace Hotel - 3:50 am**

A short time later the cab let its passenger out at one of the more upper class hotels in the city. After watching the passenger pay her fare, pick up her sparse luggage and disappear into the lobby; the driver of the nondescript sedan parks his car across the street.

His weathered face is slightly illuminated in the dark driver's compartment as he flips open his cell phone and places a call.

(More to come...and thank you all for your comments and reviews)


	3. 3

((Browning belongs to Browning, the BBC belongs to the BBC (this makes sense now) - just using there names for the story nothing more and thank you for the reviews. The quote is Isaac Asimov -- Also by post-Season 6 Highlander, this includes the short ill-fated run of HL:Raven))

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**Le Blue's Bar                                                                                                                                                                Paris, France – 11:50 am**

As bars go it's an eclectic mix of both American and French design tastes. With functional tables and chairs evenly dispersed across the room with the layout tailored so that all eyes would be focused on the main stage that dominated the back half of the club.

Joe Dawson sat alone at the bar, a carafe of coffee and a steaming mug resting between his hands as he ideally watches the mid-morning broadcast from BBC1 regarding the latest invention from America, which the rather hyper anchorman was touting as a "...stunning innovation from America's Silicon Valley."

"And here I was sure that the toaster was humanities highest achievement," said Methos as he quietly walked towards the bar.

Startled by the 5,000 year old Immortals uncanny ability to enter any space with the quiet grace of a cat, with a slight start he turns to glare at the physically younger looking man barking out "JESUS Methos... How many times have I told you not to do that to me?"

Smirking silently like an immodest child he shrugs "If I told you the exact number, I fear you would think me a total cad," walking closer to the bar.

"I assure you that my opinion of your character couldn't sink lower," says Joe with a grin.

Muttering as he reaches over the bar for a clean coffee mug "I have no idea why I patronize this establishment. It most certainly is not the friendly customer service." spoken with an expert combination of righteous indignation and self-effacing humor as he slouches down on the stool next to Joe.

Picking up the carafe Joe pours the steaming liquid into the fresh mug. "Ya know for someone as old as you are, you shoulda learned by now never anger the guy pouring your coffee."

Methos's opens his mouth but his retort is cut short by the shrill ring of Joe's cell phone.

Sighing he sets the carafe down and fishes the small phone out from his belt, flipping it open with a quick flick of his thumb he presses the handset to his head "Hello."

The conversation that takes place is one sided with Joe only muttering several uh-huh's. Methos's already can tell that it's something to do with the Watchers so he's content to sip his coffee and watch the TV as he wait for the call to end.

Grunting softly "Well thanks for the update John; I want you to stick to her, it's been 12 years since she's had to go to ground."

"Uh huh... ya file an update to her chronicle as well and have the people in research start looking carefully as to what might be behind this," says Joe as his fingers tap softly against the bar.

"Ok, keep me in the loop and if you need anything give me a call." the cell phone closes with a snap.

"Something up?" Methos asked with slight interest.

"Maybe... maybe not, one of the more stable Immortals just up and bolted from her current identity. Her Watcher John Winters said she appeared to be dressed in surgical scrubs," as he tucked the small cell phone back into his belt.

"Define stability... and if I'm not mistaken wasn't Winters set to retire last year?" said between sips of coffee.

"Twelve years in the US Military as a Medical Doctor, seven years at her current duty station along with an adopted daughter... hence the reason John was given her chronicle since she'd been stationary for so long and hadn't had a challenge in years," he said picking up his coffee and taking a sip, his interest in the TV program lost he leans over and switches the set off.

"'_Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome_.' The same holds true for mortals and immortals in this regard Joe," he said in reply.

This garnered a soft chuckle from Joe "Only you could see it that way."

Rolling the now warm ceramic mug between his long fingers, "I take it there where some special circumstances with this Immortal, unless the U S Military has decided to recruit 67-year old men. We usually get someone on the inside to do the Chronicle," he says as he looks at Joe curiously.

He stares into the coffee, the hairs on the back of his neck already starting to stand up after talking to John. Sighing he sets the coffee down and rubs at the back of his neck with his hand, "We tried to get someone within NORAD to be her watcher, but we couldn't touch anyone where she worked. The level of security clearance was too high. So we treated it like a high risk Immortal and stuck with long distance surveillance of her residence."

Setting down his empty mug and taking hold of the carafe "Who this mystery Immortal anyway?" he asks refilling his mug then, before setting the carafe down, motioning with the container silently asking if his companion wanted a refill.

Shaking his head Joe runs his fingers through his short grey hair before speaking "Currently she was going by Janet Frasier, but her original name is Kallisto... one of Rebecca Horne's few remaining students," he says grabbing his cane and slowly leveraging himself up from the stool.

The sound of his rocking gait fill's the room as he slowly walks towards his office in the back.

As Joe reaches his office door the silence of the bar is broken "Twelve years you say... with an adopted child...," Methos asked with practiced indifference his eyes gazing into the ebony liquid.

Pausing at the threshold to his office he turns to glance back towards the bar "Yea, why do you ask?"

Setting down the half empty mug on the bar he sighs "No reason, but I would hazard a guess that the Immortal population of Paris is about to grow," he stands up and moves silently towards the door.

As his hand starts to push open the door Joe asks from across the room "How can you tell?"

Standing motionless in the half opened doorway, his minds eye seeing events and faces long since passed; his mind remembering every instance in his long life in which he was forced to 'die' and move on leaving behind those he cared for.

As he finally turns to look towards Joe, his young face reflects a look of wisdom hard learned "She's going to want to get as far away from her old home... her old life as she can. Paris is both far way and one of the best cities in which to lick one's wounds." and with that he walks out into the downcast afternoon.

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**Denver                                                                                                                                                                          ****Outside Palace Hotel – 4:15am**

Moving again to desperately find a comfortable position, John Winters starts to lament why he hasn't finally accepted that he is just too old for this active field work, even when watching a very sedentary Immortal like Kallisto.

With his last call to the Regional Office made there was nothing left to do but wait for the researchers to do there jobs and find out what exactly happened. The fact that he had spotted her walking up her street barefoot, in surgical scrubs, leads him to personally believe that she had died in a car wreck.

But the pattern didn't fit her. He'd been watching Immortals for a long time, roughly 30 years of tracking the likes of Farther Darius and even for a short time the Kurgan.

And after a time you start to see the pattern in the actions of your Immortals, there various quirks. Such as with Kallisto, originally she would leave her house for work and stay on base, he judged, rather then commute back to her home.

But that had been before she had adopted Cassandra.

Now there was a mystery that the people in Research where puzzled by, Cassandra, the girl seemingly appeared out of no where; her documentation and the adoption itself as one technician put it was 'too perfect'.

When Cassandra entered the picture Kallisto's patterns, as he had predicted, shifted to a more stable 9 to 5 time schedule with perplexing times when Kallisto would remain on base. But given the world as it was that was not a surprise to him, with most military bases going through random 24-hour drills and lockdowns for the various threat scenarios since September 2001.

Yawning tiredly he reaches over for the brushed steel thermos and opens it to take a long draught of the still warm coffee he kept on hand for nights like this.

The buzz of his cell phone draws him out of his introspection. Thumbing it on "Winters here." he says as he rests the metal container between his legs.

((more to come muse willing.))


	4. 4

((Once again thank you for the reviews))

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**Denver   
Palace Hotel Room # 317 - 4:00 am **

She crossed the threshold, the door shutting behind her with a soft click. Switching her attaché to her left hand she quickly opens the door holding it ajar with her foot; taking the elegant Do Not Disturb sign off the back handle and places it on the outer doorknob. Letting the door swing shut with a soft click she quickly chains and bolts the door, further locking the out the world for a few hours.

Turning on her heel she walks further into her new temporary home. The softly lit room itself was lavishly decorated in period Victorian décor, a style designed to draw guests back to late 1800's with a warm mix of mauves and burgundies that was designed to complement the period furniture along with soothing the troubled spirit of a weary traveler.

She didn't care; she'd been in countless hotels such as this in the 1800's. The pessimistic part of her mind chides that if the hotel wanted to give their guests a real taste of life in the 1800's then they should rip out the posh and very modern bathroom she was now standing next to. Nothing stripped away the nostalgic veneer then having to go to the bathroom by dim gaslight in a chamber pot.

Shaking her head she runs her slim fingers through her auburn hair knowing full well that her melancholy had nothing to do with lack of sleep but with the fact that she despised starting over, especially under such abrupt circumstances. She had loved her life and her friends; she had felt a contented peace working at the Stargate Command. But she knew the risks every time she went through the Stargate, which she might come back in a body bag... or worse revive before her friends.

Walking further into the room and sets the black attaché down on the small tasteful black walnut coffee table positioned before the elegant dark burgundy couch. Letting the backpack drop onto the plush cushions she absentmindedly toes the old tennis shoes off and kicks them aside.

Taking the two magazines out of her left from pocket she drops them together on top of the attaché with a metallic clatter. Pulling the roll of money she had taken from the case and tosses it on top of the complementary business magazines left for the hotels guests.

Turning around she moves across the room back towards the bathroom. Flicking on the lights she pulls the sweatshirt and flimsy linen surgical scrub top off together and tosses them to the cold marble floor. Her hand moves automatically to the small of her back and she pulls the cold black steel of the Hi-Power out and sets it within reach on the overlarge bathroom counter.

Looking up she studies her reflection in the large mirror, standing there in the black and grey marbled bathroom; topless and only clad in a pair of weathered denim jeans. The face looking back at her is tired, a bone deep weary that radiated from the almost ebony circles under her eyes and her slightly slouched posture.

She realizes now why the clerk at the front desk had not complained when she left a sizable deposit and was going to pay for her indefinite stay in cash; she had the air of a battered woman on the run. And the clerk had probably surmised since she had chosen this hotel out of the myriad of other less expensive hotels in the downtown area that she was escaping from a wealthy but abusive husband.

Considering the heavy duty disinfectant that she had helped design for the SCG to ensure that nothing unwanted left the controlled environment of the Mountain, the clerk probably thought she had just come from an emergency room given the unmistakable chemical odor that she must radiate.

Walking towards the large glass enclosed shower she turns it on. Taking a few moments to adjust the temperature to what most would consider scalding. The need to wash the last vestige of her past life off her body, a visceral need to be clean suppresses the rational side of her mind. As the torrents of steam billow out and start to cloud the room.

Her mind numb to the pain that assaults her skin as she steps under the showerhead; standing motionless under the steady downpour the hot water stripping the chemicals from her hair and skin. When the water starts to mellow in temperature she comes out of her morose self-chastisement, leans over and picks up the small bottle of jasmine scented shampoo quickly lathering and rinsing out her hair. Shutting off the water she steps out into the still steamy room, the cold marble a welcome shock to her bare wet feet.

Picking up one of the thick terrycloth towels she quickly dries her short hair and wraps the soft cotton around her waist, picking up the Hi-Power she moves out of the bathroom leaving her cloths in a heap upon the floor. The cool air of the room a welcome relief to her exposed skin after the hot shower, but any damage from the scalding water to her body already healed before she even finished shampooing her hair.

Switching off the only light in the room, she welcomes the embrace of the darkness and pads softly over to the large queen sized bed and pulls back the blankets including the duvet and lets her towel fall to the floor. Slipping into the cool crisp sheets she burrows under the blankets, the pistol tucked under the other pillow within easy reach.

Sleep claims her quickly as the mental and physical trauma of the past 24 hours coupled with the shower combine to sap her reserves sending her into a gratefully dreamless oblivion.

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**Stargate Command**

**Level 21 Medical Intensive Care Unit – 4:23 am**

The steady artificial beep was a comfort to her at this hour; coupled with the mechanical hiss of the respirator each sound brought to her a morose comfort for each indicated that there was still a chance... a chance that he would make it to an uncertain tomorrow.

Maj. Samantha Carter sits in the plastic chair next to the small bed; the occupant of the bed looks so small to her. It was hard for her to imagine someone as robust and full of life as Col. Jack O'Neill being reduced to the small and tragically frail individual as the one she is holding silent vigil next to.

God how could so much go so wrong and in less than 12 hours. SG-3 and SG-13 took massive causalities but the most tragic and unexpected loss to her and most of the SGC was Janet's death.

From the after-action reports and the video from the documentary crew's confiscated tapes the Colonel had fallen back and was covering Janet while she was stabilizing a wounded marine from SG-3 for transport when first Colonel was hit in the chest then shortly later Janet was struck as well. Mercifully she was told that the wound had been instantly fatal and she hadn't felt a thing. That knowledge was a cold comfort, especially to Cassie.

Cassie. The thought of what to tell her causes her stomach to lurch; the young woman had already lost her original family... her entire planet to the Go'a'uld and now to lose her mother again to the same enemy.

Running her hand slowly through her short blonde hair she's too wrapped up with her internal dialog to notice that she is no longer alone in the intensive care room.

"Major, how's he doing?" General George Hammond spoke in a soft tone, as he motions with his hand for her to remain seated, her body radiating exhaustion both mental and physical.

"He's stable for now Sir, they said that the blast hit him left of the sternum over the lung." she says softly with her eyes constantly darting from her commanding officers face then back to that of Jack.

Seeing that she is close to collapse he places a comforting hand on her shoulder "Major I want you to go and get some rest," he says raising his hand to forestall any protests, "You're not doing yourself or the Colonel any good by pushing yourself to the breaking point."

Her sapphire eyes shimmer with barely contained tears as she says "Yes Sir, I'd also like to request to be present when Cassandra Frasier is notified."

Staring at the younger officer he nods, "I had planned on having Dr. Jackson and you notify her of her mothers death. But Major you need to be there for her and that means you need to take care of yourself and get some rest. Do I make myself clear?" He said in a soft but firm tone that brooked no argument.

Nodding she comes to attention and seeing the slight nod from the General that she has permission to leave, exits the room with a momentary backwards glance.

((more to come....))


	5. 5

((Thank you all for the reviews I get a kick out of seeing them in my email after I post an update to my WIP. My first attempt at a Highlander-esque flashback, hence the length; this chapter I hope is up to par and gives a decent background into Kallisto's attitudes.))

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**Denver   
****Palace Hotel Room # 317 – 11:04am**

She awoke with a start and it took several moments before reality set in and she remembered that she wasn't late for work or that Cassie would be late for school.

Yawning as she rolls into a sitting position, her legs tucked close to her chest and her arms wrapped around her knees; it's now 24-hours later that the maudlin finally sets in. She had known this day would come eventually but even that knowledge does little to diminish the lump in her chest.

She silently allows herself this small private moment of grief for those she leaves behind, she hoped that O'Neill somehow survived. She had forced herself to not search the Morgue at the Academy for fear she would find him.

There is one person that comes to the forefront of her mind as she sits there, allowing the tears to flow for Cassandra, she had been through so much and now this.

The child had reminded her so much of herself, basically they had shared the same type of upbringing given the state that most Go'a'uld kept there planets. Primitive, barely above the Bronze Age technically and agriculturally... living in constant fear that one misstep would bring down the wrath of the Gods and the destruction of that which was your whole world.

Only in Cassandra's case her Gods where walking embodiments of evil, more cruel and merciless then the invisible ones that Kallisto and her father prayed to for a good harvest or sacrificed a newborn lamb to for more rain.

But she had done her best, which is all any parent can do truly. She gave Cassie all her love, guidance and a home in which to grow and realize her full potential. And Cassie truly wasn't alone, like any good parent she had made sure that the Last Will of Janet Frasier made provisions for her care and the trust fund that she had set aside would assure that she would go to any University she desired.

This knowledge lessened the dull ache some but she knew it would be some time before she truly healed, it was always the case when she became a mother even though because she was Immortal and could never bare a child of her own she still loved the children she helped raised.

Standing she walks slowly across the room to pull aside the curtains and banish the darkness that dominated not only the room but her mind currently. As the sun fills the room she pauses to just stand a watch the ebb and flow of the city streets below.

Tilting her head slightly, eyes closed she soaks up the sun letting its embrace warm her nude body and help keep the grief at bay. She was alive and free; if she wished to remain the latter she had to move forward. Movingon was never easy...

€€ _(Flashback)_

_**Greece,   
**__**Athens - 433 B.C.**_

_As she sat there before the dying embers of the funeral pyre she could do little to stop the guilt that assailed her senses. They where gone, all of them. Her Husband Hesiod and his eldest son Diokles, whom she had helped to raise with his youngest brother Callias since their mother fell ill and died of fever, had gone to fight the Spartans as they marched on an unrelenting path towards Athens. It was a blow when they had both returned astride there shields carried by those that had survived the ill-fated battle._

_The city was crowded with the people from the countryside seeking shelter behind its massive walls, on the other side sat the formative might of Sparta. As the funeral pyres burnt into the night her, her eldest son's wife Eirene and Callias clung to each other. She had hoped and prayed that the Gods would spare her anymore torment, but sadly it was not to be._

_Plague; the city crowded to almost overflowing numbers had been a welcome breeding ground for the silent death of plague. When her remaining adopted son had fallen ill she had gone out found herbs and made poultices, but she was helpless as he slowly slipped farther and farther away from her. And when her first daughter fell ill as well, she spent every waking moment nursing them. But it was all for naught, for their bodies where too weak from fever and sickness to go on and both slipped away just moments apart. _

_She was alone; utterly alone, and the crushing reality of this revealed itself as she stood there before the funeral pyre and watched it consume the final traces of her life. As her legs gave out under her weight and she slipped into a numb trance._

_She remained like this for she knew not how long. With each snap and hiss of the pyre she shrank more and more within herself. It was of little concern when she felt the buzz of an approaching Immortal; she made no move to try to defend herself, in a way she hoped whoever it was would take her head and free her from what she saw as a cruel fate._

_The footsteps where softly approaching her from behind, but she still made no move for the dagger she kept in the folds of her green chiton. As she felt the cold kiss of a blade rest upon her neck she closed her eyes "Take my head if you will, I will not fight you," she spoke in a soft weary voice. _

_For several tense moments the unseen opponent made no move to strike her down "If you wish it I will take your head dear one, but I pray it is only your grief that speaks those words," said the soft voice of her friend and teacher Rebekah._

_Not turning to look at her teacher she is still lost in the embers that had consumed the last of what she had come to love... her family._

_There was a rustle from behind her and the sound of a sword being sheathed, then she felt Rebekah gently sit upon the cold earth next to her neither spoke for ages till finally her teacher finally spoke "I will always remember the first time I laid rest those that I had called mine," she said softly._

_"One by one, no matter what I did I couldn't stop them from leaving me. And it hurt... I will die a thousand times and still never experience pain such as that," she spoke softly as the embers floated gently in the early evening breeze._

_"How did you go on?" She asked finally having found her voice._

_"It was not easy, it never will be but the only other choice is that you lock yourself away from the world on holy ground and let time pass you by," she said in a soft voice as she moved closer to her student her arm wrapping around Kallisto's shoulder in a warm hug._

_"We are but supporting characters in the play of life dear one; all we can do is cherish every moment." Her hand cups Kallisto's chin and she tilts her head so that they're eyes meet, the younger Immortals soft brown eyes bright with tears. Seeing that her words where not penetrating the haze of mourning she tries another approach, she moves to kneel in front of Kallisto._

_"Did you love them?" Asked Rebekah, those four simple words slowly seeped through her grief addled mind and slowly ignited a white hot rage within her breast._

_She rolled to her knee facing her teacher, her tear streaked face flushed in anger. "Who are you question my love for them?" She growled out in near feral voice. She clenched her hands into tightly balled fists as she shifted her weight onto the balls of her feet; the logical part of her mind being overridden by her emotional turmoil._

_Rebekah looked at her young student's posture and continued "Did you love them. It is a simple enough question. Do you think your self-pity honors them or that they would seek to watch you destroy yourself?" She speaks in a firm cold voice._

_With more speed then she would have thought possible Rebekah watched her student coil back slightly then pounce forward with a strangled cry, as they struggled she quickly gained the upper hand for Kallisto's grief made her actions wild and reckless. Pinning her student to the ground she reached into the folds of the others chiton and pulled out her hidden dagger, pressing the blade to her throat._

_"I say again, it will wound me greatly but I would rather see you dead by my hand then watch you channel your anger into destruction. I will not see you become something akin to the Horsemen." She whispered into Kallisto's ear. As both women's labored breathing returned to normal Rebekah feels her students body start to tremble, putting the dagger aside she moves off of Kallisto's chest and gathers her into her arms holding her close; grief overwhelms her and she sobs into the breast of her teachers violet chiton garment._

_As dusk descended upon them her sobs slowed and finally stilled but they stayed in each others embrace; whispering softly "It hurts so much, I don't know if can go on." Kallisto says._

_"It always will and you will go on but not for yourself, you'll go on for them because that is what they would have wanted for you dear one. And loving them... remembering them is all we can truly do... for they are mortal," she says in response. "But that should never lessen them in our eyes."_

_"You will learn with time when the moment to let them go presents itself and when that time comes you must take your leave with no regrets." She says as she strokes the back of Kallisto's hair..._

€€

Coming out of her reflection she walks across the room towards the bathroom; she enters and picked up what was her only set of clothing. The first order of business she thought as she carried the small wrinkled bundle towards the couch was that she needed to go shopping for enough clothing to last her for her travels.

Tossing the sweatshirt and scrub-top onto the couch she slowly slips one, then her other leg into her jeans fastening the button and giving the zipper a quick tug upward.

As she picked up the flimsy pale green linen top she frowns muttering "Yes, a little shopping is most definitely in order." Smoothing out the top she moves to sit on the plush burgundy couch; leaning over she arranges the attaché before her and clicks it open.

Reaching into the file folder compartment she removes a sealed manila envelope and leaning back into the soft caress of the couch she opens it and pulls out several papers.

Shuffling through the various documents – diplomas, social security card, and college transcripts she re-familiarizes herself with the identity she had created for herself almost 14-years ago... Diana Wolff was about to make her appearance in the world.

Rising from the couch she moves across the room to the small desk the hotel provides for its guests. Pulling the chair out she sits down and opening the middle drawer and taking out the pad of paper and pen she sets about practicing signing her new name.

Time passes as she loses herself in the simple rote motion of signature practice and it is finally the rumbling from her stomach that forces her to stop. Glancing at the several pages of signatures she is pleased with the final page having finally gotten the style down.

Picking up the small blue and white social security card she signs her new name to it, standing back up she takes the card and notepad then walks across the room stretching out the stiffness of her muscles. Reaching her open attaché she slips the card back into a side pocket and the notepad into the folder compartment.

Looking across the room to the nightstand she glances at the alarm clock and realizes that it has been more then one day since she last ate. Moving towards the bed she picks up the Hi-Power from under the pillow and thumbs the magazine release, catching the falling metal clip in the palm of her left hand.

Moving to the attaché she secures her protection safely then draws out some more money for the items she would need to purchase for her trip, before closing the case she takes out the key for the storage locker where her sword was waiting for her. With a soft click she shuts the case and picks up her bags and moves towards the door to head out.

€€€€€€€€

**U S Air Force Academy Hospital   
****Basement Level -- Morgue – 1:00pm**

Walking through the twin swinging doors, Captain Michelle Wilkinson walked across the quiet expanse of the room towards the little office. Setting down her purse and shrugging out of her coat which she hangs on the coat rack behind the door.

Moving to the desk she opens the bottom right drawer and drops her purse inside and shuts the drawer. She goes about her pre-autopsy ritual silently, changing out of her dress blues and into a pair of scrubs and old combat boots covered in paper booties the same color as the scrubs.

Looking at the stack of folders sitting in her in-box she grimaces. She had been at work since 0500 hrs and had been able to reduce the pile to half its original size. The Academy was not normally the morgue for the SCG but with the events of the last 24 hours the need for space had forced General Hammond to call the head administrator of the Hospital and request use of the facilities for the next 72 hours along with her services since she was already cleared.

As she picked up the next folder she became sadden as the name of the SGCs' Chief Medical Officer greeted her. Walking across the room to locker #3 she glances at her reflection in the brushed steel surface a soft warm heart shaped face stares back at her, with deep brown eyes and a light caramel complexion, she braces herself and with a click opens the door and pulls the tray out.

She was not prepared for what greeted her... an empty slab.

Opening the folder she flips quickly through the pages and at the bottom of the admitting paperwork she reads the notation regarding shipment to Peterson for autopsy.

This didn't make sense; the General would have told her that the body was being sent elsewhere for autopsy. The sense of grief she was feeling at having to do the autopsy on someone she had known and served under at the SGC becomes replaced with an ice cold dread.

She'd been at the Mountain for too long to just let something like this pass as a clerical error on the part of some night duty nurse. Walking over to the phone in the small office she picks up the receiver and quickly dials a number.

Waiting for a moment the operator picks up, before the airmen on the other end can speak "This is Captain Wilkinson, I need you to patch me through to the General this is urgent."

As the airmen placed her on hold, she wrapped her arm around her chest hugging herself and chanting in her mind silently 'Please be a mistake' over and over again.

As the line clicked and she heard the soft authoritative voice of her commander "General Hammond here, what is it Dr. Wilkinson?"

Steeling her nerves and telling herself it was better to be guilty of a minor error then ignore what could become a major disaster she speaks "Sir, I believe we have a Foothold situation."

((More to come))


	6. 6

((My muse is like a ferret on pixie sticks; it's hard to pin it down but I somehow pull it all together and surprise myself with another coherent chapter.))

((Edited - 11/25/04.))

**Stargate Command  
Level 27 -- General Hammond's Office – 1:15pm**

He had just spent several minutes talking with Captain Wilkinson regarding the apparent misdirection of Major Frasier's body. After assuring her that he would look into the matter and that she was to continue with her autopsies. He ordered her to remain silent regarding the situation and thanked her for her diligence.

Rubbing his face with both his hands he sighs tiredly. He had only gotten roughly 3 hours of sleep in the last 24-hours having spent several moments sitting with Colonel O'Neill; before retiring to his quarters he had run across Dr. Warner and learned from him that once Colonel O'Neill made it through the first 24-hours his prognosis for a full recovery was good.

Turning in his chair and reaching for the phone he picks up the receiver and pressing a single button is connected Pentagon office of the Joint Chief's of Staff.

"This is General Hammond, connect me with Major Davis please," he said to the switchboard operator; silently waiting for the line to connect with Major Paul Davis's office, the envoy between the SGC and the Pentagon. As the line connected with a soft click "Yes General, what can I do for you?" The young officer asked on the other end of the line.

"Major I just received a call from the Academy Hospital regarding a situation." The next few moments where spent bringing Major Davis up to speed on the current situation namely the events on P3X-666, the need to use the Academy's Morgue and finally the apparent disappearance of Janet Frasier's body.

As General Hammond finished talking Major Davis responds, "General I would advise you to keep this quiet for the time being. I will quietly have Peterson Air Base searched and if Major Frasier's remains are located it is nothing more then a logistical mistake, if on the other hand her body is no where to be found. I won't tell you what the ramifications to the program might be; the potential for a Foothold, even only with a single Go'a'uld lose on Earth, could be the ammunition that Senator Kinsey needs to convince the President to cede control of the Stargate to the NID." he says.

"I will brief the Joint Chiefs and get back to you as soon as I can." Pausing for a moment he adds "I would also advise that for now, no one not even SG-1, is informed of this situation until the Joint Chiefs reach a decision." He says in a serious tone.

With a click the call is over, placing the receiver back in its cradle is leans back in his chair. His eyes drift to the picture of his two grand daughters that rests upon his desk.

Reaching for the remote he switches on the small TV in his office and pressing the small play button for the built in video player he starts to scan through the documentary produced by Emmett Bregman.

Scanning to the scene that he sought he hits play and the sounds of the events on P3X-666 fill his office, the voice of Dr. Frasier as she calls out to the Colonel then her looking up for a split second before a staff blast strikes her squarely in the chest and pushes her backwards.

The camera jostles and he hears the voice of Dr. Jackson fill the room. He pauses at the close up of Janet's face; her eyes are empty the spark of life gone from there depths, a small trail of blood at the corner of her mouth. He had seen that look countless times during his service in Vietnam. She had been dead and if this wasn't a logistical error and she was in fact alive, the grim odds where that she was under the control of a Go'a'uld and loose in the general population.

There was no other explanation he could conceive of.

€€€€€€€€

**Downtown Denver  
16th Street Mall – 4:00pm**

John ideally flips through the afternoon edition of the Denver Post without even bothering to read or look at the pictures; he patiently waits for his 'Immy' to come out of the final shop she had entered not more then 30 minutes ago.

One by one, operating off of mental list he surmised, she hit shops in an orderly and frankly efficient manner. Luggage first, having those particular items shipped to her hotel room; he's was able to learn this by spending several moments inspecting the shops selection of leather portfolios and briefcases.

It was a risk, but one that had paid off as he heard where to have the luggage delivered and, more importantly, to whom namely Ms. Diana Wolff room #317 at the Palace Hotel.

The next hours where spent in one store after another where enough clothing for a few weeks, he guessed, was purchased. It was in the first store that the newly born Ms. Wolff exchanged her current clothing for what he had to honestly admit was a very becoming outfit, and very outside the norm of what the former Air Force Major wore.

As he glances up from across the street she emerged from the shop onto the sunny Denver street clad in black ankle length boots with a slight heel, black Capri slacks, a dark maroon silk blouse and what seemed to be every Immortals required article of clothing a calf length leather trench coat of a size just slightly more then her petite frame called for, but more then adequate to hide a sheathed sword.

Her attaché was held in her left hand, in her right where several bags, who contents he could only guess where clothing. Noticeably absent was the blue backpack.

Bringing the rangefinder of his digital camera to his eye he starts to do his job, snapping several pictures as she dons a pair of fashionable sunglasses while she strolls down the slightly crowded street. Moving from his position next to the bus stop at the other side of the street, he begins to parallel her direction.

Stopping at the corner and glancing at her wrist, she proceeded to flag down a cab and after transferring her purchases to the trunk slips gracefully into the backseat and the cab vanished down the street.

Noting the cab's license number John turned and crossed the street, starting back towards the store; he had learned that it was easier to wait in one spot then to try and follow a target. Unlike his younger counterparts, he had grown past the 'follow that cab' stage of chronicling an Immortal.

Walking into the store she had just left he proceeds to wander about glancing for any indication of where the pack might have gone. Before he decides to give up, he plays a hunch and, after asking the saleswoman if he could use the bathroom, proceeds back behind the cloth curtain that separates the shop from the stores offices and storage.

Its then that he notices the blue backpack folded over on itself in the trash bin next to the unisex bathroom door. Grabbing the knapsack he walks into the bathroom and locks the door; quickly opening the pack he finds the remains of a prepaid cell phone box and a matching set of surgical scrubs.

Taking off his weathered leather bomber jacket he slips the backpack on and hitches the straps tight ensuring that the pack will ride close to his back. Slipping his coat back on he casually washes his hands and as he keeps the scrap of paper towel in his hand walks out of the store without looking back.

Now he would drive to the Hotel and park in the best spot to observer the front entrance; while waiting he would file his updated field report via his laptop with a copy forwarded to Joe; the report would be the standard field update including today's photo surveillance and more importantly her new identity.

€€€€€€€€

((More to come, Happy Holiday's readers))


	7. 7

((Well since was down for server work and I was unable to post chapter 6, I decided to put the ferret in the exercise wheel of my mind and crank out another chapter; thank you for your reviews and I hope you like this one as well.))

((Rated R/PG-13 for a 'naughty' word))

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**Denver**  
'**Storage Solutions' – 4:26pm**

The cab glided to a silent halt before the door to the storage facility. Telling the driver to wait, she opened the door and slipped out. Moving toward the security door, she donned her sunglasses and quickly punched in the security code. The door buzzes and she quickly tugged it open and disappeared inside the large steel building.

Quietly walking down the numbered isles she turns at the fifth row and continues down for another five yards, coming to a stop at storage container #35. Leaning over slightly she clicks the key into the padlock and with a gentle twist is rewarded with a metallic snap as the lock pops open. Quickly unhooking the lock she leans down and tugs the rolling metal door up. The space is small, only five feet by five feet and bare save for the long black case in the middle of the concrete floor. Walking into the stale air of the room she leaned down and silently unhooked latches on the case and tilting the lid open.

Within the plush velvet case rests an elegant gold swept hilt rapier; her fingertips gently trailed over the fine filigree on the basket of the hilt. She closed the lid and secured the latches; grasping the handle, she stood and walked out of the container, the padlock and key left in the middle of the cold floor and the door wide open.

As she exited the building and approached the waiting cab the truck popped open and as the cabby's door opened, obviously about to offer her a hand, she waved him off and placed the long case with care in the back slamming the truck hatch down swiftly. Moving to the back passenger door she climbed in and they drove off.

€€€€€€€€

**Stargate Command  
Level 21 Medical Intensive Care Unit – 4:30pm**

Jack O'Neill's eyes opened slowly. 'Damn it, I feel like crap. I am way too old for this,' he thought to himself as he turns his head slowly. He recognized the short brown hair of his friend Daniel Jackson next to him; head bowed in concentration as he looks at something below Jack's field of vision… 'Probably some new rock,' Jack thinks absentmindedly.

His attempts at talking come out in a gurgling moan that never the less gets Daniel's attention, the mystery item in his friends hand comes into view as Daniel jumps up quickly and leans down over Jack. 'Ah, that better not be my Game Boy your pawing Space Monkey,' He thinks.

"Don't try to talk, you're on a ventilator." He says to his older friend in a barely contained burst of joy. 'Wow a vent, and here I was wondering what this plastic tube was in my esophagus.' Jack thinks, his tired glare unnoticed as Daniel moves the curtain aside and calls for the Doctor.

Dr. Warner comes into sight and picks up Jack's wrist and takes his pulse. "Glad to see you decided to join us Colonel O'Neill, you gave us quite a scare there for a while." He says with a slight smile. The duty nurse moves towards the other side of the bed, Dr. Warner looks at her saying "I think we can remove the vent on the Colonel now." She nods and raises the level of the bed slightly, as the Doctor removes the oxygen line, "Now Colonel I am going to remove the intubation tube take a deep breath then on three as I remove the tube blow out, ok?" O'Neill nodded slowly and drawing in as deep a breath as he could.

Dr. Warner un-tapes the tube and quickly goes "1…2…Blow," and pulled the pale plastic tube as Jack exhaled roughly. As the tube slipped quickly up and out of his throat, Dr. Warner grabbed an emesis basin held it before the Colonel as he coughed and gagged for several moments.

As Jack got his breathing under control, Dr. Warner pulled his stethoscope from around his neck and listens to the sound of Jack's lungs; nodding as he draped the stethoscope around his neck again he picked up Jack's chart. Taking a pen from his coat pocket he starts making notations as he talks "Your lungs are sounding good all things considered, tomorrow we'll talk about your rehabilitation schedule Colonel O'Neill. Now I want you to take it easy and get some rest," moving off leaving Jack and Daniel alone.

As Daniel moved to reclaim his chair next to Jack's bedside, Jack quietly asked "How's everyone?"

At this Daniel looked decidedly uncomfortable, his focus down on the Game Boy in his hands; its a few moments before he finally speaks "SG-3 and 13 took the worst of it. Bregman and his crew are fine…" Jack could tell by Daniel's posture that he was leaving something out "Who didn't make it, Teal'c… Carter?"

Drawing in a breath Daniel said "No… No, they're alright."

"Daniel!" He said in a soft yet annoyed tone, his patience all but gone from the constant dull pain every breath caused combined with the ever-present ache of his knee.

"Um Janet… she um, she didn't make it Jack." He said in a husky voice, "Um she… when she was stabilizing a member of SG-13 and uh…" he swallowed again "um she was hit by a staff blast and there was nothing we could do, she was…," his voice faltered.

While Daniel talked O'Neill had closed his eyes and swallowed hoping that this was all just a bad dream, he knew it wasn't but still. His mind focused on Cassie and automatically he said "She's on a class trip…asked if she could borrow my binoculars; she should be back on…what day is it?" his mind focused on random thoughts as he silently came to grips with this news.

Before Daniel can speak Jack stated "I'll tell her," in a tone that Daniel knew meant the subject was not open for debate. Nodding quietly Daniel set Jack's Game Boy down on the small bedside table "Here I thought you might…" But he can see that Jack's eyes had closed and his breathing was slow and even. Running a hand through his hand he quietly stood up and walked away, leaving his friend to rest.

€€€€€€€€

**Washington D.C.  
Capital Hill -- Office of Senatorial Special Assistant Marcus Grant – 5:00pm**

As he sat at his desk reviewing the latest reports from the NID for his boss Senator Kinsey, the silence of the room is broken by a soft chime from his computer. Glancing at the screen he noticed a single message, the subject line only contained the word '**UPDATE**'. Turning in his chair to face the computer he clicked on the message and began to read, the message barely one sentence says _'**Target Deceased as of 12:00am CST'**_; a broad malicious smile appeared upon his face. Scrolling down the body of the message he saw the attached grainy digital photo of a dead body, the face prominent and distinctly identifiable as Janet Frasier.

Major Janet Frasier, M.D… but he had known her by a few other names, it had been 60-years since their last encounter but then you never forget the one person responsible for the humiliation of being sent into slavery and chained to an oar for 10 agonizing years.

Finally, he spoke softly to himself as he savored the sight of her nude body on the cold metal slab "Your luck has run out at last and you will be forced to run bitch. And I will make use of your 'death'."

He leaned back sighing as a sense of pure bliss invaded his being at this wonderful event. But he would bide his time, he was after all a patient man; the willingness to wait out an enemy had been drilled into him since he was a small boy.

Oh he knew he would have to inform that ass Kinsey to start the wheels in motion but once the NID was securely in charge of the Stargate he would deal with that useful idiot and the rest of those short sighting fools of the 'committee' that controlled the NID.

They only see the Stargate as a means to exploit new avenues of financial gain, but it was far more then just that. And when General Hammond discovered that there was no body to recover, Kinsey would get an anonymous tip suggesting that a Go'a'uld was on the loose. And Kinsey he would predictably scamper to the Oval Office… and then… then the NID would take charge and as for himself; he would be in position to take the reigns of the committee and with it the Stargate.

"Fortuna caeca est Kallisto, alea iacta est," he said softly.

€€€€€€€€

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**_(Fortuna caeca est --Fortune is blind)_**

**_(Alea iacta est -- The die has been cast)_**

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**Review Reply**

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Cuppajo - Nope no Beta currently this is my first story, sorry bout the tense shifts, In fact I see one sentence that is just totally confusing I will edit it ASAP and I'll keep them to a minimum as the story goes but honestly I type as I speak if it doesn't flow correctly I fix it…In fact I think the problem is that as I write the story is unfolding before my minds eye so in a sense its all 'present tense' to me.

Malaskor - Yes Go'a'uld can't take over a dead body BUT they are devious and thus most would suspect that if she was taken over, the snake was playing dead and thus that would be the only explanation that the SGC can rationalize for the loss of her body - I would dare say that her being an Immy would be dead last on their list, and Go'a'uld also have the ability to increase their hosts natural healing abilities. I try my best to keep 'plot-bunnies' to a minimum.


	8. 8

((Found a very detailed list of Immortals on the web and yes Ramirez's real name is 'Tak Ne' and he was from Egypt around 836 B.C.; sorry for the delay, muse has been napping and I've been addicted World of Warcraft. And as for whole Capital Hill deal, no one there notices the Assistants, they're phantoms.)) ((Thanks to Saffron Angel for being the beta for this chapter.))

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**Denver   
Palace Hotel Room # 317 – 11:00 pm**

She puttered around the room silently. There wasn't much left for her to do. The last of her wardrobe was safely tucked away in the suitcase she had purchased. She finally wandered across the plush room, coming to a stop before the low coffee table where the long black sword case rested along its smooth polished surface. Slowly, she unlatched the case, and swung the top open. Reverently, she unfolded the soft velvet wrapping that encased the rapier and dagger.

She reached into the case, her slim hand grasping the grip. Bringing the sword out of its cocoon and turning sharply on her heel, Janet spun effortlessly into the classic en garde position with the sword held at chest level.

The blade was perfection, crafted in the long forgotten art of Damascus steel with a balance and length designed to complement her slight frame. In the silence of her room, she slowly wielded the blade through a kata of slow and controlled cuts, thrusts and parries against an invisible opponent. This was a dance she had danced countless times since she first grasped the hilt of a sword all those centuries ago under Rebekah's guidance. A dance she tried to impart to every fledgling she had tutored.

Time vanished under the simple, graceful movements till, at last, the complaints from her muscles reached a volume that she could no longer ignore. Her breathing was a slight panting from the strain brought about by the controlled movements. Only now did she realize that her silk top was clinging to her body, soaked with sweat. Chiding herself for this slip in discipline, the slight woman muttered, "No more hiding behind the U.S. government, my dear. You're now back at the tender mercies of your fellow Immortals and the 'Rules of the Game'."

She turned and gently placed the rapier back into the open case. With a gentle turn, she walked back across the room toward the bathroom. Glancing at the small alarm clock on the nightstand, she was surprised to learn that she had spent roughly three full hours lost in the slight meditative trance of her practice.

Peeling the soaked maroon silk top from her shoulders and setting it on the sink, she continued to undress. Just before setting the temperature of the water, she glanced at her reflection. She examined herself closely, twirling an errant strand of hair between thumb and forefinger. Her hair was currently auburn with blonde highlights and the cut was the shortest it had been since the 1920's, barely reaching the curve of her shoulder, a style that Cassie had convinced her would 'make the guys check her out'.

"New life. New hair color." It came out of the blue in a vocal rebuke of the melancholy that she felt encroaching upon her. "Maybe it's time to return to my natural color?" she asked her reflection.

Turning on her heel, she reached into the shower to adjust the temperature. As the steam rolled out of the glass enclosure, she stepped slowly under the torrent of hot water, letting it wash away the sweat and soothe the ache of muscles long dormant. The water worked its magic on the aches that had developed in her shoulder muscles as her mind drifted to the cause of the dull ache and more importantly the person who had cared enough to craft it specifically for her all those centuries ago.

_**(Flashback)**_

_Royal Court of Charles V - King of Spain and Holy Roman Emperor  
Spain - 1535 A.D._

_The room is massive. Resplendent in gilded gold and fine silks and softly lit by a myriad of candles, the soft sound of music mingles together with the conversations that are scattered around the room. She stands engaged in polite conversation with the High Mayor of Toledo about the growing trade from the King's new colonies in the Americas and the siege of Vienna by the Turks. As she listens to the continuous prattling, she is assailed with the familiar thrumming buzz that starts at the base of the neck and spreads to encompass the entirety of her head. Keeping her calm outward appearance, she scans the room to see if she recognizes the Immortal that just entered the room._

_The moment her eyes find his the buzz vanishes only to be replaced with a wholly new and welcome sensation as a blush creeps up her cheeks from the attention of his eyes as he unabashedly examines her from across the room. Slowly she unruffled her silk fan and begins to cool her heated face as he slowly approaches._

_The High Mayor, completely oblivious to all things except his own needs, hastily makes polite introductions upon noticing for the first time that they are no longer alone._

_"Ah! My dear, this is the King's chief Metallurgist, Juan Sanchez Villa-Lobos Ramirez," he says with a rather dismissive air. Then inclining his head toward Kallisto, he continues, "Señor Ramirez, allow me to introduce the Lady Mirabelle Wolfstein, who is here as a representative for the Duke of Wurttemberg to His Majesty's court."_

_As she extends her hand, Ramirez gently brings it to his lips, gracing the back of her hand with a kiss as his eyes remain fixed on hers. As the trio makes polite conversation she can not resist as she steals sidelong glances at the very handsome gentleman across from her._

_Finally, the High Mayor becomes distracted by the appearance of the Papal envoy, leaving the two Immortals alone at last. Ramirez inclines his head toward the balcony and both slowly walk outside into the cool summer night. Turning to face her, he smiles warmly, a smile that is mirrored on her face. "Kallisto, you are as beautiful as ever," he says, taking her hands in his once again and bringing them to his lips._

_Inclining her head at his attentions, she whispers softly, "And you, my dear Tak Ne, are still as handsome and charming as ever. How long has it been since we last met, 600 years?" She softly glides closer to him._

_Wrapping his arm around her slim waist, he leads her further away from any prying eyes, down toward the garden. "Oh, my dear, much longer than that. I believe it was in France. Charlemagne's Court as I recall." They stop behind one of the many lush green hedges that line the paths of the garden. She turns to face him as his arms encircle her slender waist._

_"Oh... well are we going to talk or are you going to kiss me?" she whispers huskily, her head tilting slightly up as his lips move closer to hers._

_"Who am I to ignore the request of such an enchanting lady?" he whispers just before their lips meet in a deep kiss...._

Shutting off the water, she reached for a towel, thinking sadly, _"You would have so loved the twentieth century, Tak Ne. May you burn in hell, Kurgan."_

…

**Stargate Command  
Level 27 -- General Hammond's office - 10:00 am**

The silence of the room is broken by the knock at the door. "Enter," the General called out as he closed the cover on SG-6's post-mission report regarding their mission to P65-X4F.

When the door opened revealing Major Davis, he stood up.

Stepping into the room, the Major shut the door behind him before quietly coming to attention with a crisp salute.

Nodding slightly in greeting, Hammond commented, "Major, I hope your unannounced visit means that the situation has been resolved."

"I'm afraid not, Sir." As the Major removed his cover, he let out a soft breath as the General gestured for him to sit. "I just came from both Peterson and the Academy Hospital. The head of the Medical Facility at Peterson had no knowledge of a body being shipped to his morgue two nights ago. Furthermore, we did a physical count of all bodies in their morgue and none even came close to matching that of Major Frasier." Before the General could say anything, the Major continued. "There is more, Sir. I felt it wise to err on the side of caution and had a forensic team accompany me to the Academy's morgue."

"And what did you find, Major?"

"Sir, we found Major Frasier's fingerprints on the lip of the morgue locker. In fact, we found her prints on the doorknob of a supply closet and the door to the morgue itself. Places they shouldn't have been. Places she had never been even when she visited the Academy hospital." General Hammond noticed the grim look marring Major Davis's features.

Leaning back in his chair, George closed his eyes and let out a slow breath as he looked at Major Davis. "What are the Pentagon's orders?"

"General, the Joint Chiefs have decided to play this one 'close to the chest' as it were. Their orders are that, for all intents and purposes, Doctor Frasier is, in fact, dead. Furthermore, no one outside this room, save the Joint Chiefs, is to know for the time being that we have a foothold situation. The planned memorial service is to go forward as planned," announced the young Major.

"Major, I cannot keep my 2IC in the dark regarding this situation. Hell, son, Dr. Warner says that the Colonel has tried to sneak out of the infirmary once already in order to be there for Doctor Frasier's daughter," replied the General as he sat taller in his chair. The thought of lying to his second in command left a bad taste in his mouth.

"Yes, sir. The Joint Chiefs are very aware of how close SG-1 was to the doctor. After the memorial, they will be informed of the situation. At that point, your orders are simple. Retrieve Doctor Frasier at all costs and, with the help of the Tok'ra have the Goa'uld that has taken control of her removed." The Major ran his hand through his hair, knowing how dicey this situation could get and how quickly it could get that way.

"Major, may I ask why the Pentagon has decided to keep up the ruse that Janet Frasier is dead?" Hammond asked.

"Because Senator Kinsey has recently gained the backing of someone very rich and powerful it would seem, with serious connections in D.C. The rumors are that he is all but assured the Vice Presidential nomination this year," said Davis. "And news of this security breach could be just the lynch pin he needs to convince the current administration that the SGC should be under civilian control."

"With Kinsey picking the civilian director, I take it."

"Yes, Sir."

…

**Colorado Springs  
O'Neill Residence - 1:34 am**

The room was silent save for the snap and hiss of the slowly dying logs in the fireplace. The room was decorated in simple yet tasteful tones of brown and green. The lone occupant of the room was sprawled in the corner of one of the matching pair of larger leather chairs. A half-empty glass of water sat on the dark oak coffee table, next to the bottles of pain medication and antibiotics that Dr. Warner had insisted that he take if he was going to check himself out of the infirmary against the doctor's protests.

He was still exhausted from the shouting match he had gotten into with the obstinate doctor, but some things in life were more important than one's own comfort.

_**(Flashback)**_

_"Colonel O'Neill, you are NOT ready to be released. You could have a relapse or collapse your lung if you overexert yourself," insisted the exasperated doctor._

_Slowly he turned on his heel and glared at Dr. Warner. "Look MAJOR Warner, I am more than capable of taking care of myself. Besides, SG-1 is grounded while I'm on medical leave so there is no chance that I'm going to pop anything."_

_"Colonel!"_

_"Look the only stressful thing I am going to do is get dressed in my Alphas and go inform a young woman that her mother won't be coming home ever again," he said in a soft tone. His brown eyes were cold and his posture brooked no argument._

_Warner knew that he could pull rank, having two SFs and a nurse force the Colonel back into bed but he had a feeling that the ensuing fallout would make his life hellish. As he observed the Colonel he realized what was driving him to leave the hospital, it wasn't his well-known hated of the Infirmary but was, in fact, his ingrained sense of duty and personal honor. _

_With a resigned air Warner pulled a prescription pad from his coat pocket and scribbled out two scripts. "Colonel, I want you back here by 0900 tomorrow for a check-up. Now one of these is a prescription for an antibiotic, you need to take these otherwise you'll wind up back here and no alcohol at all while on these. The other script is for painkillers, which I know you won't take, but if you cannot sleep take one. You need to rest in order to fully recover."_

…

Jack glanced slightly over his shoulder toward the staircase that lead to the second floor, his mind automatically focused on the young woman cocooned in the guest bedroom.

It was never easy to look another human being in the eyes and tell them that those they loved.... those who were their whole world would not be returning to them. It was worse when you cared about the recipient of the news. While Cassie had tried not to break down, she had, understandably, failed.

And, as she had clung to his arms, sobbing over and over again that one simple word, 'No', Jack had felt his own tears slip down his cheeks in sympathy. Sympathy mixed with the grief that he felt as well at the news that it was Janet that hadn't returned.

He glanced toward the couch. The sleeping form of Daniel Jackson lay the length of the leather couch with his right arm flung across his eyes. The slight rise and fall of the archeologist's chest was accompanied by a soft snuffling. The other members of his extended family had gone long ago, with Carter needing to return to the base to oversee a critical experiment and Teal'c accompanying her as well.

Rubbing at his eyes and knowing that he needed sleep, Jack slowly got to his feet and, after checking on the fire for a final time, made his way slowly up the stairs to his bedroom.

As he slowly walked down the hall, he stopped to glance in on Cassie. The young woman had curled across the bed in a fetal position, clutching her pillow. The silence of the room gave Jack the impression that she was finally resting.

Quietly, he walked into the room, stopping next to her and gently reaching out to stroke her tear-streaked cheek. The shifting of the bed and a soft sniffle told him all he needed to know. That she had been sitting here all alone with her demons.

Looking down, he saw her eyes in the pale moonlight staring up at his. Though her face was that of a young almost adult woman, those eyes that gazed up at him were more akin to a scared and hurt child. He acted more on instinct that anything else and moved to sit on the bed. She scooted over slightly and, as he stretched his legs out along the length of the bed, she moved to his side, pressing her head lightly against his chest (thankfully not over his still healing wound).

In the silence of the room she needed no words, no hollow platitudes. Only comfort from the man she publicly referred to as Uncle Jack but in her heart saw as her surrogate father. They stayed that way until morning.

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((More to come)) 


	9. 9

((Italics Foreign Language. And once again thank you all for the reviews – Delay due to winter and the Holidays.))

((Non-Beta'ed back in the saddle again solo, BUT I am trying to keep the story in the past tense))

**Revised - 1/4/05 (caught a flub)**

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**Denver, Colorado  
Benedict Park – 6:00 am**

Crunch…crunch…crunch… is the only sound that breaks the silence of the crisp morning as she kept a steady cadence slowly rounding another bend at the quiet park. It had been some years since she had needed to exercise in excess of what was needed to pass her yearly Air Force Physical Fitness Assessment, but then she had spent the last years working and sometimes outright living on Military bases which where considered Holy Ground.

It was still hard for her some mornings but gradually it was getting easier, being apart of the SGC had been a big part of her daily life for so long that now she felt a little lost every morning when she realized she wouldn't be walking through the main check point and taking the elevator down twenty-seven stories to her infirmary. But she knew it wasn't that she knew why she was reluctant to just outright leave Colorado… Cassandra. Every time she became a mother, even though because of her Immortality she was unable to have children of her own, she found it difficult to leave her children when the time came. But then it was easier knowing that Cassie would be well taken care of and that she would live out her life in relative safety with Colonel O'Neill… Jack, she wasn't under his command anymore or even apart of the military but still it was difficult to separate the man from the title.

She had thought long and hard when she adopted Cassie on who she wanted as Cassie's guardian in the event that she had to leave… or lost a challenge. And the one person that came to mind without hesitation was Jack. She had to be honest when she looked at her friends and decide who would be the better parent. Samantha? No, she was more of a big sister to Cassie then a mother figure. Daniel? Again no, again more of a friend to Cassie and there where the personal demons she still saw in him regarding unresolved feelings of loss that stemmed from the death of his parents at such an early age, coupled with the loss of his wife Sha're. Teal'c was not a valid choice; she seriously doubted the military would have agreed to his being Guardian given that he himself was not from Earth. General Hammond would have been a good choice but Cassie barely knew him, and she wanted the transition to be seamless to minimize the negative effects on Cassie. So that left Jack and she honestly had to admit that he was the best choice.

Whenever the Team was on downtime, he was there at her house checking up on Cassie. Cassie had even agreed, much to Kallisto's surprise, to go fishing one time with the Colonel; though she had admitted in secret that it was extremely boring given the lake had no fish but still she had enjoy the time with her Uncle Jack.

Rounding the final bend of the jogging path, Kallisto veered to the right and merged onto the sidewalk and started the seven block journey back towards her hotel. As her warm breath left a visible smoke trail in her wake, some would wonder why she would run in a city as cold as Denver at this time of the year. The cold was only a minor inconvenience and it had been sometime since she had taken a morning to just enjoy a crisp winter morning.

Near the corner of East 20th and Broadway she glanced left then right and seeing that the early morning streets where all hers quickly dashed across and onto the cross street and continued south. As the front of the Hotel came into view she slowed her pace to start her cool down. When the door man caught sight of the petite Immortal, he nodded and held the door open she smiled slightly toward him and continued into the lobby.

Across the street a dark sedan pulled silently to a halt on the corner parallel to the hotels entrance, its lone occupant watched as Kallisto vanished inside.

…

**Denver, Colorado  
Downtown – 6:45am**

With a yawn John rubbed at his eyes. Slowly he reached over to the passenger's seat for the brushed steel thermos of coffee to refill his small cup. After refilling his cup, he secured the cap with a firm twist and set the cylinder back on the seat.

After several sips, John set the cup on the sedans black dashboard. Reaching behind the front seat John picked up his soft leather briefcase, pulling out the laptop he rests it on his lap and as the small machine boots up he reached for the cup and took another sip. After speaking his password, the Watcher Archive Security Program granted him access to his reports. Ever since the fiasco of Christine Salzer threatening to go public with the Watcher Database after her husband's death, then followed by the Immortal Kalas killing her to make use of the Database to locate the Immortal know as Methos all field agent laptops where issued this advanced security program that required voice ID.

It was a one shot deal the techs in the IT section claimed, if someone tried to access the system without speaking the correct password, or tried to bypass the program and download the hard disk, the hard disk was deleted outright with zero chance of recovery.

He quickly opened his email folder and reviewed his messages. As he scrolled through the list he noticed a reply from the Watchers Research Section with regards to Kallisto.

Setting his cup down John clicked open the message and read slowly. The news left him confused. The cause of death was listed as 'Accidental' but their research had turned up no military police reports or any documentation to support the claim. In fact the details where on some military databases that when they tried to access sent up red flags all throughout the IT Department as 'off-limits'.

"What where you involved in Kali?" he asked with as he rubbed his chin.

Minimizing the email program he opened up his copy of Kallisto's Chronicle and sat there sipping his coffee as he updated it for the past week and uploaded his surveillance photos from the past few days. A soft ding drew his attention from the report. Clicking on his open email program he slowly scrolls through the message, it was a reply from Jennifer Welch, the researcher assigned to Kallisto.

The body of the message was brief stating that Ms. Diana Wolff was in the process of building her personal and financial history. Activity from two colleges on the east coast, New York University and Georgetown, showed that Kallisto was in the process of securing up-to-date college transcripts; this activity was coupled with several wire transfers from a Bank in Geneva to a private brokerage in New York as well in the name of Ms. Wolff.

He closed the email and returned to typing up his report, as he sipped his coffee he was prepared for another long day of surveillance.

…

**Denver  
Palace Hotel -- Room #317 7:00am**

She walked out of the bathroom, a towel tucked around her slight frame, the soft drone of the morning news from the suites television in the background was interrupted by the sounds of Chopin coming from her cell phone. She moved to the small table where the small black phone rested and picked it up, with a push of her thumb she brought the phone to her ear

"Hello?"

The voice on the other end of the phone spoke to her in the guttural tones of German.

"_Guten Morgen Fräulein Wolff, this is Joachim Sachs at Banque Nationale Suisse"_ said the voice on the other end of the phone. The caller was the account manager from the bank where she kept her initial funds stored, after she had settled into a new local she would access the other accounts she held.

Glancing at the clock on the nightstand she replied "_Guten __Morgen Herr Sachs, I hope that nothing is wrong?"_ Walking across the room she let the towel drop from around her breasts to pool at her feet, opening the suitcase she pulled out her clothing and with the phone tucked against her shoulder slowly began to dress.

"_Nein Fräulein Wolff, I was just calling to inform you that the accounts are ready. Where would you like your credit card, checkbook and passbook couriered to?" _he asked, she could hear him typing on a computer as he talked.

As she sat on the edge of the bed thinking, she knew that the longer she remained in Denver the greater the risk it would be at being seen by someone who knew Janet Frasier she replied_ "Have them sent to my brokerage firm in New York."_ She proceeded to give him the address and other details.

"_Ja Fräulein, understood. I will have them shipped before the close of business today. They should arrive in New York by next Monday, at the latest. Is there anything else you need?" _He asked, the sounds of a bustling office could be heard in the background.

"_Nein Herr Sachs that will be all, I do thank you for your prompt service."_ She said as she stood from her perch on the side of the bed and walked to the window glancing out over the already heavy mid morning traffic on Denver's city streets. Her fingers slowly traced against the cold double paned glass, she would miss Colorado but not for its scenic beauty she would miss this place for those she had to leave behind.

"_It is a pleasure Fräulein, thank you for banking with Banque Nationale Suisse. Auf Wiedersehen."_

"_Auf wiedersehen und haben guten tag Herr Sachs."_ she replied before her thumb pressed the end button. Kallisto stared out across the city and sighed, turning away from the window she walked towards the bed and continued to dress.

Moments later as she finished the last button on her blouse she moved to the closet to gather her leather trench coat, sword and dagger, she had travel plans to arrange. She needed to disappear for some time, twenty or thirty year's maybe. She knew that Rebekah's door was always open at St. Anne's Abby.

Rebekah… I would be good to her again. It had been so long since there paths crossed that her old teacher must have assumed she had finally lost a challenge. Yes, Paris at Christmas time was a treat for all of the senses and Kallisto felt the need drown out the past.

…

**Colorado Springs  
O'Neill Residence – 9:34am**

They sat around the kitchen table silently poking at there food with no real gusto. Cassie was only absently pushing the eggs around her plate, nibbling on a piece of toast and sipping her glass of orange juice. Jack and Daniel kept there eyes on there plates for most of the meal, only glancing toward Cassie from time to time.

The knock at the front door broke the cocoon of silence that had descended upon the house. Daniel reacted before Jack and stood up, disappearing from the kitchen leaving Jack and Cassie alone. Before Jack could open his mouth the sound of footsteps and talking could be heard from the hallway leading towards the kitchen.

Looking up he was surprised to see his second in command walk through the door with a rather concerned look clouding her features. "Morning Major." He said trying his best to look innocent, he smiled slightly to her.

Raising an eyebrow she walked the length of the kitchen towards the main home phone hanging on the wall, she picked up the receiver and brought it to her ear. With a sigh she hung the phone up and stood back; as she kneeled down the soft click of the phone cord being plugged back into the jack could be heard in the early morning silence.

As she stood glaring at the Jack, Teal'c walked into the kitchen "O'Neill, Dr. Warner has sent us to ensure your arrival for the appointment you are now 34 minutes late for, his face was a most unnatural shade of red as he requested GeneralHammond send SF's to retrieve you." said the stoic Jaffa, his eyebrow raised as he observed the silent communication between his fellow teammates.

Looking at the wall phone then towards Sam then Teal'c in turn, Daniel glanced back toward Jack as he quickly reached into his pocket for his cell phone. Looking down to the small black device in his hand, he turned it over in his hand and found the battery pack missing.

Quickly looking up his mouth opened and before he could speak "Top drawer next to the sink." Jack said with a dismissive wave of his fork.

"So I take it that you've come to whisk me away?" Jack said as he took a sip from his coffee, the mug hiding his grin as he watched Daniel move across the room to retrieve the pilfered battery.

Before Sam could reply Cassie spoke for the first time in some hours, the tenor of her voice slightly unsteady from crying most of last night. "What's wrong… are you ok… are you hurt?" She asked her eyes bright with barely contained tears.

Her right hand went to feel his forehead for any sign of fever while her left sought to hold his hand that rested on the countertop. It's now that she notices the pallor of his skin, and the slight fever she feels on his forehead evokes a tear to escape down her pale cheek.

"It's nothing kiddo." He said and tried to reassure her, but the tears wouldn't stop; the realization that he had been injured as well and could have died along with her mom was too much.

He turned in his chair and gently drew her into his arms; her head was tucked under his chin as she sobbed. Hugging her close he rubbed at her back trying to comfort her. He heard the softly retreating footsteps of his team, leaving him to comfort her.

Sometime later her sobs dissolved into soft sporadic hiccups. Her voice was soft as she spoke, "I can't lose you too Uncle Jack, I know you can't promise me you won't die but… you could have gotten sick if you didn't go to that appointment." she said clinging to him.

Stroking her back slowly he said softly, "I didn't want you to worry, you need to rest and not worry about me." He continued to rub at her back with slow soothing strokes.

Sniffing she pulled back slightly and looked up into Jacks brown eyes "Promise me you'll go see Doc Warner today, and do everything he says?" she asked.

"I promise Cass, you have my word."

She pulled back slightly and stood up, moving to help Jack get out of his chair. Normally he would have balked at the attention but he knew deep down that it was her way of starting to cope, so he allowed her to lead him out of the kitchen and toward his team waiting in the front room.

…

**10:04 am**

As they pulled out of his driveway, Carter behind the wheel of his truck and Teal'c in the passenger cab, Jack looked into the rearview mirror and saw Cassie standing on his porch watching them drive off, her arms where wrapped protectively around her frame; Daniel stood silently by the front door watching, a concerned look upon his face.

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((More to come)) 

((Guten Morgen – Good Morning))

((Auf wiedersehen und haben guten tag – Goodbye and have a good day/afternoon (time difference between Zurich and Denver is 9 hrs 7am MST is 4pm CET so he would greet her good morning and she would say 'have a good day/afternoon.') German provided by Babel fish so if it's wrong, blame AltaVista :P))

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**Review Reply**

airam4u - The Military is seldom kind, Earth is at a constant state of war against the Goa'uld so yes Sam would return to the mountain in order to over see an experiment that could be vital to the safety of Earth. Remember 'Meridian' after all.

Texan – Here is the URL for the site I mentioned It is a very detailed Immortal site, including challenges and who took whose head


	10. 10

**((Sorry all for the delay, but I ran into a bout of… well not writers block cause I had what I wanted in my mind already… more like I was suffering from a lack of ability to lay this chapter out to my complete satisfaction. I hope you enjoy, another chapter is in the works as well.))**

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**Colorado Springs, Colorado  
Stargate Command – Level 28 Gate room – 1:34pm**

The last of the official VIPs where escorted from the Gate room, Jack turned and glanced off toward the ramp leading up toward the Stargate; as he stared at the massive ring his mind was drawn back to Carter's eulogy, it had been touching and the best way to honor Janet for she had lived to help others and that's how she should be remembered.

Looking towards the open blast doors he caught sight of Cassie, flanked by Daniel and Teal'c, talking quietly to General Hammond and General Myers, the head of the Joint Chief's; the small medal case that held the Silver Star that was awarded posthumously to Major Janet Frasier cradled in both her hands.

General Hammond caught his eye and nodded for him to join the small group; Jack sighed and slowly made his way across toward the small group. Coming to attention he saluted General Myers, the small group talked softly for several moments, Major Carter joined them as well.

General Myers' aide came to inform him that they where on a pressing schedule and if they where to return to Washington before morning they had to leave for Peterson's now. With this news, goodbyes where said and the group parted ways. Cassie gravitated toward Jack and he put a supportive arm around her shoulders. The silence was broken by the approaching footsteps of Major Davis, as he drew closer he looked toward General Hammond.

George steeled himself for what he knew was to a terse meeting, but orders where orders. As the older man glanced at the Davis he said "SG-1 I need to see all of you in the briefing room at once." Then walked over to Major Davis; both spoke for a brief moment then walked out of the gate room.

With a glance Jack looked from his team members then towards Cassie. Seeing that his friend Major Lou Ferretti was still present Jack called out "Ferretti, would you mind driving Cassie back to my house?"

Walking over to the small group "Sure thing Colonel." said the gruff looking Special Forces Officer.

Jack reached into his pocket for the key to his house, removing the key from the key ring, he handed it to Cassie. "Will you be all right?" his eyes studied her, she had been controlled during the ceremony but he knew deep down inside that she was hurting. Sam's eulogy had struck a cord with all present.

She nodded clutching the key in her other hand. "You promise to take it easy? I spoke with Doc Warner, I wanted to know what I should be concerned about and he told me to make sure you took it easy… got plenty of rest and some other things as well." She stated in a calm almost maternal tone, as her eyes moved slowly around his face searching for any sign of pain.

The Colonel's mouth opened slightly then closed as he realized Cassie would mother hen him until Dr. Warner returned him to duty. He made a mental note to have a nice long talk with Warner… better yet, skip the talk and go straight to crazy glue and the man's desk chair. Glancing upward he could see the small smirk on Lou's face and he had a feeling that it was mirrored on the faces of his other teammates with the exception of Teal'c, but then he was probably doing his 'eyebrow thingy' he thought.

"Alright campers, lets not keep the General waiting. " He said as he watched the retreating back of Cassie.

…

**Colorado Springs, Colorado  
Stargate Command – Level 27 SGC Briefing Room – 1:40pm**

As the members of SG-1 walked into the room they could sense that something was amiss. General Hammond and Major Davis stood together at the front of the conference table both silhouetted in the ethereal glow of the large plasma screen monitor, upon it the slowly spinning logo of Stargate Command.

One by one the members of SG-1 seated themselves around the table with; Jack seated to the immediate right of General Hammonds usual position at the head of the table and Daniel to his immediate right. Across from Jack, Sam was seated with Teal'c to her left.

Turning away from Major Davis, Hammond stood at the head of the table.

"What I am about to tell you is not to leave this room. This information is compartmentalized and these orders come from straight from the Joint Chiefs and General Myers himself." He said as he held the gaze of each member of SG-1 with his.

"The day after the events of P3X-666, I received a call from Captain Wilkinson at the Academy Morgue. She called to inform me that Major Frasier's body was apparently directed, without her knowledge or consent, to the Base Morgue at Peterson. She felt it prudent, given the nature of the SGC, to report this situation at once." As the General spoke voice, he noticed the subtitle changes in posture in each member of SG-1 as what he said regarding Major Frasier's body registered fully.

"Major Davis, if you would." Hammond said as he ceded the briefing to the young officer.

"At the behest of the General I reported the situation to the Joint Chiefs and started to quietly investigate if in fact the body had been directed to Peterson, unfortunately that was not the case. My investigation found no record of a delivery from the Academy Hospital to Peterson anytime that month, furthermore I had a team of SF's from Area 51 examine the Morgue and what we found was not encouraging." Picking up the remote that operated the briefing monitor, the Major stood aside and the image of the SCG logo was replaced by several photos of what appeared to be the Academy Morgue.

"Major Frasier's fingerprints where recovered not only from the door and wall surrounding the storage locker, but also within the pathologists office. Further tests also determined that Major Frasier's prints where on the report as well." As he spoke the images on the screen changed to each object in question.

Silence engulfed the room took on a life of its own as the words spoken by Major Davis sunk in, the words slowly took shape like a dark monster, with a presence felt by all present.

"You mean Janet is alive?" asked Daniel, the first to find his voice after this revelation.

"No Danny, she's alive… but what there not saying is that they think she's got a snake in her head… Am I right General?" Jack said with a grim look upon his face, his eyes staring at the opposite wall of the conference room.

Slowly taking his seat at the head of the table, General Hammond leant forward resting his elbows on the dark mahogany surface of the conference table. Glancing to each member of SG-1 in turn he nods slightly in response to Jack's question before speaking.

"Given the situation the Joint Chief's have declared this a 'Foothold' situation. The facts that not only were Major Frasier's fingerprints found on the medical report but also that there is blatant evidence of an attempt to cover-up the fact that she is alive…" As he spoke, those gathered caught a glimpse of the stress inherent in being Commander of the SGC upon his kind face.

Slowly he claimed his seat at the head of the conference table; he rested his elbows upon its rich and dark polished surface. Schooling his thoughts in the pregnant silence that permeated the room Hammond looked to each member of SG-1, but before he could continue with the briefing the silence was interrupted by the soft click of the conference room door being opened. As he rose to verbally dress down whomever was entering, General Hammond's pallor went from merely flushed to an almost alarming shade of red as the lanky form of Senator Kinsey stepped into the silence of the room.

Another man entered directly behind Kinsey, shutting the door silently and standing a discreet distance behind the aged politician.

"Well…well… what do we have here? This wouldn't be a meeting to discuss the fact that, due to your incompetence General, we have a Goa'uld running loose in the population?" Kinsey spoke in a smooth and controlled voice, grinning in slight self-satisfaction as the hue of not only the General's but Colonel O'Neill's face reached shades of red unheard of in nature.

…

((More to come))


	11. 11

**((Head 'um up… Move 'um out… got my flow back it seems… '_Mifune_' is a real restaurant in San Francisco Japan town; the noodles are the best :). And as always thank you for the reviews. Swear word this installment but eh this is 2005 and you hear worse on 'Dateline.' And need I mention that the '_Denver Post'_ belongs to them… I make no assumptions/claims of ownership.))**

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**Colorado Springs, Colorado  
Stargate Command - Level 27 SGC Briefing Room – 1:58pm**

"Just what do you think you're doing here Senator?" Hammond said as he slowly rose from his chair at the head of the conference table; a fury he rarely felt was building within his veins and slowly overriding his usually well engrained sense of decorum.

"What I'm doing General is ensuring that your incompetence doesn't further compromise this nation's security and put more innocent civilians in harms way." He replied ignoring the General's demand; the aged Statesman slowly moved to the opposite end of the table and as he crossed his arms over his chest he straightened up to his full height, trying to present a picture of authority… it did little to impress those within the room.

"Need I remind you Senator that I answer to the Joint Chiefs and that they are fully aware of the situation and your concern is dually noted. Now if you'll excuse us I trust you know how to find your way out." Replied the seasoned warrior as he rested his hands on the dark wooden surface and glared at the man that had quickly moved from mere thorn in his side to an outright hindrance to the daily operations of his base.

"Furthermore," he said as he glanced behind the Senator, "you should know better then to bring an unauthorized individual into a classified briefing."

"This is Richard Grant, and you can save your righteous indignation for another time General. I assure you that Mr. Grant has the proper clearances to be here." He replied without taking his eyes off the General.

"Probably from those oh so charming people at the NID Sir, you know how concerned they are about national security and such." Colonel O'Neill said out of the blue, his cold brown eyes alternating between the Senator and his silent companion.

"If I might ask… just how," said O'Neill as he turned his attention away from Marius and back to Kinsey, "did you learn about this situation? I was under the impression that it was compartmentalized and well… you're not in our command structure."

Marius lowered his head to hide the grin upon his face at the brashness of the Colonel's words… _'Oh if you only knew the truth Colonel… that I was behind telling Kinsey about Kallisto's death… and that soon all this will be mine!'_

"I don't need to explain myself to you COLONEL O'Neill," replied Kinsey, his ire slowly rising at the blatant lack of respect apparent in Jack's voice, "or have you forgotten that I am Chairman of the Senate Oversight Committee on Intelligence?"

"Just how did you learn about this situation Senator", Hammond said before O'Neill's mouth could completely open with what would most likely have been a suitably derisive reply, "and furthermore I don't see how this situation concerns you?"

"I'm here to ensure that you don't screw up yet again and endanger the lives of more innocent civilians." Kinsey replied in a condescending tone as he straighten up and slowly strolled down the length of the table, an air of superiority radiating from his every pore.

"I don't understand what you mean by 'innocent civilians' Senator?" Daniel asked as he swiveled in his chair to glace towards Kinsey over the rims of his glasses.

"Dr. David Jordan… Dr. Steven Rayner… and let's not forget Dr. Sarah Gardner, Dr. Johnson… any civilians that have the misfortune to cross SG-1's path wind up either dead or hosts to a Goa'uld." Kinsey was oblivious to the reaction of those around him, especially Daniel's. Oh no, Kinsey's sole focus was the man slowly advancing upon him from the head of the table.

"Why are you here SENATOR Kinsey?" Hammond reiterated; coming to stand toe-to-toe with the man that had, during his years as the head of the SGC, gone from valued ally to the programs most virulent detractor.

"Why to inform you that, as the head of the Intelligence Committee, I am assigning the recovery of Major Frasier to the NID", he smirked, "and that SG-1, and you General, are to stay out of their way."

"You can't do that!" Sam blurted out finally finding her voice, she glanced toward her CO and could see that he was about to snap.

The sound of slight chuckling from there base commander drained the mounting tension from the room; its sound was foreign and seemingly out of place during such a serious situation.

"I am so very glad that you find this amusing General." Said Kinsey, as he folded his arms across his chest; a look of uneasy slowly replacing the cheerful glee that had filled his face.

"Oh yes Sir, Senator I find it very amusing," Hammond turned to Major Davis, "Major if you would be so kind."

Major Davis had remained silent throughout the entire conversation, he had learned in his long posting as an aide within the Pentagon how to remain unnoticed until the moment required it… and that moment was now; walking from his position at the head of the conference table the Major approached Kinsey and from within the breast pocket of his dress blues removed a sealed envelope "Senator these are signed orders from the President himself ceding all direct operational control of the recovery of Major Janet Frasier USAF to Stargate Command and General George Hammond USAF."

The Senator grabbed the enveloped from the Major's hand and tore it open hastily; Davis quietly returned to his former position at the head of the table. Those gathered had the rare pleasure of watching the color upon Kinsey's face at first totally drain then quickly be replaced by a deep red as he was put in his place.

As he crumpled the signed document within his hand he glared at the General and slowly turned leaving without another word.

…

**Denver, Colorado  
_Mifune_ Japanese Restaurant – 5:32 pm**

Five days… 120 simple hours…it was hard for her to grasp it but that's how little time had passed since her world had been turned upside down, maybe it was for the best… comfort bred a lassie faire attitude and she was pressed to admit it… a familiarity that could have proved fatal.

Since her death she had been either practicing with her sword or going for long runs early in the morning mingled with time spent in the Hotel's gym. There was little left to do; she was to depart tomorrow at 2pm on a flight from Denver to O'Hara, then the 11:25pm Red-eye from O'Hara to JFK.

Setting her chopsticks down and taking a final sip from her beer Kallisto stood and, after leaving a couple of twenty dollar bills to cover the tab and tip, pulled her leather trench coat from the back of the chair and without a backward glance moved toward the door of the small restaurant. Emerging from the gentle glow of the dimly lit eatery she slipped into the embrace of the soft calfskin coat, the comforting weight of sword and dagger nestled against her side.

She stood there for a moment glancing at the waning light as it bathed the Rocky Mountains in gentle pink hues, the cold crisp air stung her face… wind tussled thought her hair, she was loathed to spend another evening locked away in her room, she turned and slowly started to walk down the block. Deciding to visit the park that she knew was just a few blocks away, it would probably be quite some time before she ever set foot in Denver.

…

From his car across the street, John looked up as Kallisto exited the restaurant. She tilted her head back and then after a few moments started to walk off down the road, in the opposite direction of her hotel. He brought his camera up and snapped off a few quick shots, examining her beautiful face closely as she walked down the sidewalk toward his parked sedan.

The wind whipped her short raven black hair about her head, sometime yesterday evening he figured, she had changed her hair color. The color he guessed was more in keeping with her natural color but also lent a harsher persona to her usually soft warm features.

…

As she passed the rear bumper of his sedan, John watched her in his rear view mirror continue down the street at a slow and casual pace.

Leaning down and after fishing under his drivers' seat for a moment, John straightened up with a well worn city/street atlas in hand and after quickly flipping through its well worn pages planned his next move. Having spent several years watching Immortals one developed a sense about there patterns and his best guess was that Kallisto, tired of being cooped up in a hotel room, was making a beeline for the small city park a few blocks away.

Tossing the atlas over his shoulder onto the back seat he started up his sedan and slowly pulled into the slight evening traffic, taking a slow circular path toward the park. After finding a parking spot, John grabbed his digital camera, exited the car, and moved into the park only pausing for a moment at a newspaper machine to grab a copy of the Denver Post's evening edition. Finding a quiet bench near the path that Kallisto would most likely enter the park at, John sat and glanced at the paper.

If he was right she would be there in moments and if he was wrong he would just return to the hotel and wait.

…

She strolled quietly into the park merging onto the gentle grade of the walking path from the city street. The chill mountain air felt refreshing, its sting elicited a red hew upon her cheeks; this, along with the cold winds tussling her hair, helped to remind her that she was alive.

…

John tracked Kallisto over the edge of the folder paper he was half-heartedly reading.

He hated this near arctic weather; the ache it elicited in the old football injury to his knee was tolerable but still it made his gait falter with a noticeable limp. Counting to five he rose from the bench and slowly started to trail Kallisto.

…

As Kallisto moved further into the park, John struggled valiantly to maintain a distance of ten yards; unfortunately, slowly but surely, he was falling behind her with every bend in the winding path. Up ahead he watched as she rounded the bend in the path into a small wooded area.

…

As she exited the small wooded area that also was home to parks storage shed, Kallisto continued forward for another ten yards then stopped. The snap-hiss from the parks various sodium streetlights mingled with the gentle rustle of leafs on the trees and those that had succumb to the ravages of time, falling lifelessly to the cold ground below where they where scraped and scuffed against the ground by the wind.

…

Moving as quickly as his now protesting knee could carry him, John came closer to the small densely wooded area. Adjusting the strap of his camera to ensure it was snug against his body he moved forward. Hoping that Kallisto hadn't decided to stray from the paved path, the mere thought of having to traverse any rough ground made his knee throb.

…

"Damn it, Rico we could have had a good time with that lady that just came past… and she looked like she was loaded!" Whined Tony, a pasty malnourished meth addict as his hands constantly moved up and down his forearms. Had it not been for the ravages of time and drugs upon his young body Tony would have been considered handsome, he was of average height but it was his eyes and hair that always marked him for his eyes which where steel blue and hair a fiery bright red.

His two companions faired better in there lives then young Tony. Rico was a short stocky individual with hard eyes, a light caramel complexion that complemented his Aztec ancestry, evidenced in the prominent sweep of his nose. With a tired sigh Rico glanced toward the third member of their little clique. Nicky was the quiet one with a thin willowy build and a head topped with a shaggy mop of greasy brown hair.

If asked which of the two people he ran with scared him the most… Nicky would win. Rico didn't ask much about his silent friend, so long as he kept his mouth shut and did what he was told they got along fine. But it was Nicky's eyes that gave him the creeps, and Tony too when he was in between his highs and withdrawals… they where pitch black and almost lifeless.

"That's your problem Tony, you're too reckless. Sure that bitch looked all rich and hot in her long leather coat. But if you pulled yourself away from the needle and actually learned more about the world today you would know that she probably is some uptight self-defense nut and more trouble then she'd be worth." He said in a condescending tone.

As Rico watched the path he spots an older man struggling down the same secluded lane, "See Tony, all ya gotta do is wait… and bam… sumthin better comes along." A vicious grin dominated his face accompanied with a cocky nod of his head toward the slowly approaching figure.

…

**Colorado Springs, Colorado  
Stargate Command - Level 16 Secondary Command Center – 5:32pm**

"Ok Major, you're all set here." Replied Sergeant Siler as he slid out from underneath the edge of the console.

"The satellite is tied directly into this panel here," he spoke as he double-checked the monitors one-by-one, "and the other monitors are tied into both NORAD's orbital tracking center and all local and national news feeds per your orders."

"Good job Sergeant, that'll be all." She said as she took a seat before the massive bank of monitors.

Samantha Carter leaned back in the desk chair, arms crossed protectively against her chest, and stared at the monitors but her mind was elsewhere. "Don't worry Jan, we'll get you back."

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**((Move to come… hey watta ya know... a dramatic cliffhanger-like ending… ))**


	12. 12

**((Ok invoking the 'R' rating I mentioned when I started…))**

**((Ok… real life has been a bear; accept that Janet/Kallisto in my story is over 2500 years old… Other then that thanks again for the reviews I am glad your enjoying the 'show'… and I understand negative feedback, but now that you've said your peace further comment is pointless. And as to Janet's understanding regarding her disappearance, I've always thought that when an Immortal died well they also to an extent became psychologically frozen in time as well… the older Immy's are not only a tad aloof but at there base core the ultimate in selfish and myopic. Now before you flip out about that, they are human and can change but to a greater extent because of the nature of 'The Game' they have 'Id's' the size of Texas. So to Kallisto, vanishing would solve the problem of the Foothold because she would not step foot in America again for some centuries.))**

**((Italics flashback/past))**

**Edited ((Thank you myeerah for alerting me to that grammatical error, I thought I had fixed that sentence but this must have been a previous copy that slipped by my editing.))**

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**Denver, Colorado  
Alley near 34th and E Streets – 7:41pm**

Silence reigned within the dark confines of the alley, the only sounds to be heard where the gentle rustle from the myriad of garbage bags scattered about as the cold Rocky Mountain winds whipped quickly down the lifeless expanse.

A ragged gasp tore through the silence of the night followed by a short coughing fit coming from a small pile of garbage bags haphazardly dumped near the side of an already overflowing restaurants dumpster. It took her several moments to gather herself and slowly she rolled onto her knees and started to free herself from underneath the avalanche of bags that had been her cocoon she knows not how long.

As she moved silently into the alley she stretched and worked the kinks from her stiff muscles, the wind sliced through her coat chilling her to the bone. Her clothing felt stiff and she was overwhelmed with the sickly sweet iron scent of human blood, both her own and others, mixed with the various other liquids that could be found in a pile of refuse.

Brushing herself off, Kallisto checked to ensure that her sword and dagger were secure in there sheaths. Her sword was securely where she left it, but her dagger was no where to be found. Turning around slowly, she picked up one of the garbage bags that had fallen on top of her and tossed it aside. After several moments of blindly feeling under the mounds of trash, her fingers finally brushed against the sharp blade and she quickly retrieved the errant weapon. The dagger in its sheath, she thrust her hands deep within the pockets of the now tattered coat and started to walk toward the exit of the alley.

Silently emerging from the shadows of the alley and wrapping the coat around her body in an effort to fight the chill night air, she silently merged with the flow of the early evening foot traffic. Lost in thought, her mind going over the events of the night slowly trying to piece them together… tear them all apart… then reassemble them all over again. It had been centuries since she had experienced such a shock, not even learning of the existence of Aliens and other worlds troubled her as much as this… and to be honest it left her off balance.

As she stopped at the corner with the rest of the pedestrians waiting for the crossing signal to change, one single thought repeated over and over again within her mind.

'_How did he know my name?'_

…

_The wind swirled around her; it enveloped her in its chill embrace while the leaves rustled and danced about her feet and brushed softly against the legs of her slacks. Her senses where alight with the waning light of the sun as it slowly sank beneath the western horizon, framing the Rockies in soft red and pink hues._

_Time ceased for Kallisto, this was one of those rare moments in life when the world froze and you became one with everything for an instance. She cannot place exactly what pulled her suddenly from the tranquil daze she had allowed herself to be lulled into. _

_Turning slight she paused and did nothing but listen… the only sounds at the moment where the slight rushing of the wind against her ears… _

'_CRASH'_

_It was faint but she had heard it. As she slowly walked back along the path she had just come from, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled, something was not right._

…

A random elbow knocked her off balance, as she looked up the teenager responsible sped further down the sidewalk on his skateboard without a backward glance; the contact having roused Kallisto from her thoughts, she to study her surroundings and notices that the hotel is up ahead on the next block.

Closing the distance to the front entrance in a matter of moments, she barely looks at the bellman as he held door open for her. In a daze she continued onward and finally she is on the third floor and sequestered in the silence of her room.

Walking across the room she shed the tattered and bloodstained remains of her leather coat, leaving it in a pile upon the floor. Slowing only for a moment to unhook the harness of her sword and rest the elegant blade across the cushions of the couch, she retains the dagger and moves toward the window.

Throwing the curtain aside she stands there, as her eyes darting from window to window… roof top to roof top… her grip upon the smooth ebon handle of the dagger flexes repeatedly.

She paid little notice to the dried crimson smears upon the daggers slender blade…

…

_As she walked down the lane toward the obvious sounds of a struggle a small part of her mind chided her for even bothering to investigate the matter, that at the moment her main concern should be leaving Colorado and the United States for quite sometime. _

_But then life would become quite dull if she never took any risks, so she had stayed with the SGC after she learned the truth of what they did. _

_She passed the finally thicket of trees and moved down the lane… before her was the source of the struggle…_

…

**Colorado Springs, Colorado  
Stargate Command -- Level 16 Secondary Command Center – 7:47pm**

'…top story of the night. Denver Police say that the victim, 67 year old Jonathan Winters was the apparent victim of a mugging sometime between 6:00 and 6:45pm. The victim was taken by ambulance to St. Joseph's Medical Center for treatment of a stab wound to the abdomen and blood loss. A spokesperson for St. Joseph's reports him to be in critical condition.'

As she sat in the chair silently watching the television coverage, Samantha Carter's eyes darted repeatedly to the other monitors before returning back to the coverage live from downtown Denver.

'Laura, can you tell us anything at all regarding to why the police have cordoned off the park?' replied the news anchor from the studio.

'Well Tom, information is currently sketchy but from what some eyewitnesses have been heard saying it appears that there was an apparently someone in the company of the victim that was armed,' the camera feed cut to the sight of a jet black body bag being loaded into a white utility van, the emblem of the Denver Police Department coroners office emblazoned upon its side, by two Denver CSI technicians; 'and what is the most disturbing is that apparently one of the assailants was apparently decapitated in the assault, while the other two where seriously injured.'

At the mention of the form of death one of the criminals suffered, Sam's entire focus was on the local new coverage. The door to the Secondary Command Center opened silently behind her, but her attention was solely upon the new reporter.

The reporter looks off into the distance, obviously behind her camera man, and then moved forward. The scene changed and the reporter quickly approached a tall slender man dressed in a simple dark suit. 'Detective… Detective…'

'Carter?' the soft voice of Colonel O'Neill caused her to refocus her attentions on the other monitors and not on the grizzly details of an apparent mugging gone wrong.

…

**Denver  
Palace Hotel Room # 317 – 7:50 pm**

The events of the past few hours slowly replayed in her mind… causing her to turn away from the outside world, for at the moment it was more foreign to her then it had been in sometime.

Silently walking through the small living room she paused to kneel down and pick up the tattered and soiled leather trench coat. Inspecting it with a detached eye she discarded it upon the couch and finally noticed that her dagger was still within her hand…

…

_As she stepped slowly down the path the sight that greeted her was distressingly familiar in all its dehumanizing glory. Strong fell upon the weak in the age old dance, something that crotchety old bastard Darwin would have called 'Natural Selection'._

_Clearing her throat she stood in the middle of the path… the wind whipping the hem of her coat._

_A tall muscular man with a dark chestnut complexion turned toward her as she made her presence known. Glancing past him she saw his companions, the scrawny man with a gaunt face and impossibly red hair was clutching a digital camera in one hand and a slim black billfold in the other whilst the third member of the small group held the victim with one arm pinned behind his back and the other pressed the blade of a hunting knife to the his windpipe._

"_Not your night lady…ya shoulda kept on walkin." said the one that she had identified as the leader simply by the fact that he had been standing idly by doing nothing._

…

Walking to the sword case in which she kept her cleaning cloths, reaching in she retrieved a small cloth and bottle of mineral oil. Moving back toward the couch she poured a small amount of the oil on the cloth and started to slowly wipe at the blade of her dagger.

…

_The attack was what she had been taught by Rebekah to expect. All men would instinctually, given her slight frame she was taught, rush her savagely in an attempt to make use of there greater physical mass or strength to overwhelm and pin her against the ground. _

_Without even thinking she spun upon the heel of her boot, moving to her left and out of his path. Then with both of her clenched fists extended in a downward circular arc, she struck, connecting with the side of his head just below the ear with a solid and audible crunch. The combination of this and his forward momentum sent him crashing to the ground. Dropping into a defensive stance Kallisto circled with her back to the woods, keeping all the assailants within view._

_As the first attacker slowly climbed back onto his feet the scrawny red head charged at her making use of the camera upon its neck strap as a weapon. As the camera sailed through the space that her head had just been, Kallisto took advantage of the vulnerability and drove her elbow quickly upward into his throat, the camera and billfold quickly flew from his hands as they clawed against his now damaged windpipe._

_Stepping to the side, her foot struck out hard against the side of his kneecap, the sound of snapping tendon and bone was only overshadowed by his strangled gurgle; In that dark part of herself she was starting to enjoy this, it had been sometime since she had reveled in a blatant and violent act. The only other time she'd come this close to giving into her base urges was when Cassandra was suffering thought the effects of Nirrti's genetic experiments; the look on Nirrti's face as she stood before the self proclaimed 'Goddess', M9 side arm in hand and pointed at her head…she still wondered what her friends reactions would have been if she had just pulled the trigger._

'_You Bitch… I'm gonna make you pay for that.' the leader hissed as he reappeared from behind barreling down upon her…_

…

With a final swipe from the now bloodstained cloth, she silently stood up and walked across the room to set the cloth and oil bottle back within her sword case.

The dagger secured, along with her sword, within the case she turned and walked toward the bathroom. Flicking on the soft white light she stands before the mirror and starts to peel away the remains of her clothing, leaving them in a heap at her feet…

…

**More to come…**


	13. 13

**((I am thankful that those that have responded positively to the 'timeline' style tried this past chapter. I, in no way, am trying to Mary Sue this, I've read a lot of Mary Sue's an so far Janet/Kallisto hasn't walked on water or with a flick of her wrist killed all Goa'uld in existence.))**

**((I worked on this chapter to tie up the loose end that I left last installment.))**

**EDIT ((small changes in the text and punctuation; I swear that cough should have had two asterisks around it but took them out for some odd reason, so I tweaked that sentence – I have no Beta; if I could find one, that would be nice, but so far no luck.))**

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**Colorado Springs, Colorado  
Stargate Command -- Level 16 Secondary Command Center – 7:54 pm**

As Carter finished updating O'Neil on the status of the NORAD satellites in orbit, she glanced back to find her commanding officer's attention focused on the Local News stations recap of today's events, specifically the mugging at a local park and the macabre details about the decapitation of one of the assailants.

"Sir?" she asked, swiveling around in her chair and moving to stand before the seasoned officer.

Raising his hand to forestall any further conversation, Jack moved closer to the bank of monitors and adjusted the volume on the news coverage.

'…sources say the budget shortfall will impact the Denver County School Districts by causing cut backs among non-essentials programs, such as Student Band and Drama Clubs.' stated the elder anchorman as he turned away from one camera to glance into another.

'Now returning out top story of the night, we go to Allison Flad live from St. Joseph's Medical Center in Downtown Denver for an update. Allison?' said the lead anchorman.

'Thanks Tom. I'm standing here in the ER of St. Joseph's where not only the victim, Jonathan Winters is receiving treatment, but also the two surviving assailants from the apparent mugging gone array as well.' said the slim brunette reporter as the footage changed into a collage of shots from early at the park, prominent is the black body bag being carried by two corner technicians as other homicide detectives paced around the scene of the crime, denoted by the bright yellow plastic tape and various markers…

…

'_Nicky ditch the old man and get the wallet.' said the leader of the group, as he grabbed Kallisto from behind and they began to struggle._

_With a harsh shove, John was sent tumbling to his knees at the edge of the walkway while Nicky walked over to the prone form of his companion and grabbed up the wallet. He started looking around for the now lost camera that Tony had unsuccessfully tried to use as a weapon against Kallisto. The wallet in one hand and the knife in another, Nicky turned in time to see Kallisto ram her forehead forcefully into Rico's nose, causing it so break with an audible 'crush'._

_Gripping the hilt of the knife tightly, he moved toward Kallisto's exposed back…_

…

'Where there any witnesses to what exactly happened tonight Allison?' said the studio anchorman.

…

_As she felt the hilt of the knife make contact against the muscle of her back, Kallisto couldn't help but let a ragged groan escape from her lips. Her eyes lost focus, as her body started to send out biological alarms that it had been violated._

_Screams…constant and high pitched tore through the eerie silence of the small area._

_The screaming, at first sounded foreign to her ears, it took only a few moments to realize that person screaming wasn't her. Her body was starting to feel heavy… sluggish… the leader of the group had her still in his grasp, with her arms pinned toward her sides, but something had changed._

_As she felt herself dropped to the ground, her body felt the sharp impact of the pavement against her knees. Holding herself upright with one hand, she turned her head in time to see the victim locked in a struggle with the one the leader had referred to as 'Nicky', but what held her attention was the individual behind the struggling men… a women, dressed in jogging shorts and a simple t-shirt, stood there in shock; the whites of her eyes visible even to Kallisto from this distance._

_As her attention focused on the woman… her pain addled mind took in the features…her height, the shape of her face… her hair color…Cass…No… it couldn't be here… this is too far from Colorado Springs, her mind tried to reason._

…

'Yes there was Tom. Local Denver High student Lisa Hunter was jogging through the park, and happened upon the crime already in progress. A Police spokesperson refused to elaborate on the details of what transpired, but state that it was in fact Ms. Hunter who flagged down a passing motorist who then called the police.' spoke the reporter.

…

_Before Nicky could make a move towards this new interloper, the old man he had tossed aside appeared before him and made a grab for the knife._

_The struggle between the two took a turn for the worse, when the younger man was able to get his arm down between their bodies in the struggle and with a quick upward jerk it was over. With a slump, the older man started to sag toward the ground as his hands grasped at his stomach, in an effort to staunch the flow of blood from the stab wound._

_As the two remaining thugs stood there staring down the obviously scared girl, the world around her crystallized; the events of the past week surfaced and the haze that had started to encroach upon her was rebuffed for now. She had had centuries to learn how to deal with the pain and emotional anguish that accompanied every 'death' in positive ways, but there were times when the anger and rage served a purpose, that was not only focused but also deadly._

_And now that she could think clearly, she could tell that the next person about to become another statistic was little more then a teenager…glancing at the fallen body of the first victim a glacial calm invaded her being and she ceased thinking and only reacted on instinct._

_As she pushed herself upward, Kallisto regained her footing. Reaching within the now tattered trench coat, she grasped the hilt of the dagger tightly, her thumb flicking away the clasp holding the slim blade in place and slowly unsheathing it; she moved silently toward the leader's back._

_As the one she knew now as Nicky waved the bloodstained knife toward the scared girl, Kallisto struck quickly; the leaders cry of surprise was cut short as the blade the dagger slipped between two of his ribs and punctured his lung, air seeping against her hand from the wound. Kallisto shoved the now slowly dying thug to the side without a glance, and moved to stop the other thug from hurting anyone else._

_Nicky turned in time to watch her close the distance between them, bring her dagger toward him in a low sweeping arch; the edge of the blade slicing the thin material of his shirt and catching him across his stomach, leaving a feint crimson trail in its wake. Losing interested in the jogger, Nicky and Kallisto slowly circle each other, their weapons held at the ready. _

'_RUN GIRL!' the silence of the deadly area was broken by the harsh and labored shout from the older victim toward the jogger; her fright broken she took flight, down the path she had come from crying out for help as she fled._

_Taking the offense, and trying to exploit the fact that his opponent was already injured, Nicky pressed forward with several quick and violent thrusts. Kallisto sidestepped the majority of them, only having to physically block his blade with her own twice._

_The sound of sirens in the distance brought the first glimmer of what Kallisto perceived as an emotion to this Nicky's eyes…fear; and the next attack was more reckless then the others, as the sound of the sirens grew ever closer. Her mind was also focused on the need to not be detained by the police._

_His final attack was a violent thrust toward Kallisto's torso, that she side stepped and pressed forward driving the hilt of her own blade squarely under his ribs… and as she stared into his eyes, he smiled. The reason for the smile came when she felt the blade of his knife pierce her stomach… the twist that he gave it with the waning ounces of his strength and the sick almost gleeful smile was too much._

_Yanking the dagger roughly out from his body, Kallisto stepped back and raised the dagger upward bringing it downward swiftly, the blade easily sliced through his neck. Nicky's body slumped to the ground, with his head coming to rest a few yards away._

_The fight had taken too much from her, the energy from the anger and emotional turmoil of the past week, though immense, was spent and her wounds were starting to take effect. As she slowly made her way toward the fallen form of the elder victim, she roughly fell to her knees at his side. As she reached her hand outward, to put what little pressure she could muster against his still seeping wound, his bloodstained hand reached outward and took a hold of hers. The contact was forceful causing her to look toward him and the sight that greeting her was confusing; his look was not one of fear for himself but more concern for her and his next words shocked her to the core._

'_Leave… me. I'm not… going to…' his breathing started to become labored and intermixed with coughing 'run Kallisto…you can't… be…here.' his head slowly slumped as the movements of his chest decreased._

_She sat there, upon her knees, staring intently into the now placid face of this stranger; outwardly she looked calm, but her mind was in chaos. The sound of sirens grew louder and was now accompanied but the rapid staccato of people running up the path. _

_She scrambled to her feet and fled into the woods running as fast as possible, with little thought as to her destination. Running blinding through the park she soon emerged onto the city streets and kept running making blind turns, finally as she turned down a long alley her body reached it limit and ceased to respond. _

_Her breathing started to come in shallow gasps as her vision blackened at the periphery, walking became difficult as her body became heavier and heavier from the loss of blood. Tripping, she crumpled to the grimy ground in-between two commercial sized dumpsters, roughly landing in a crashing heap. The impact of her body against the edge of one dumpster started an avalanche of garbage bags that covered her dying body like a bed of new fallen snow._

((More to come…))


	14. 14

**((I think I've gotten the flow back, last two chapters I felt where difficult due to the amount of time that passed due to real life and that I hadn't thought about the story. Ed McMahon and Publishers Sweepstakes belong to…well themselves… don't worry it'll make sense when you read. Again thank you for the reviews, more are welcome.))**

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**Colorado Springs, Colorado  
Stargate Command -- Level 16 Secondary Command Center – 8:03pm**

As the reporter finished her update from the Emergency Room, Jack leaned over and muted the TV monitor before turning his attention back to the Major's status report.

The room was dimly lit, with only the light from the monitors and a simple desk lamp located next to the door. As she spoke he studied his 2IC's features in the muted light, O'Neill could see the effects of this crisis upon her. "So the satellites have detected nothing out of the ordinary in the last 5 days?" He said quietly, his attention refocused on what his 2IC.

"Nothing… for the past 5 days there has been normal orbital traffic, Sir" Carter said, as she studied the expression on her superiors face. Tilting her head she glanced back toward the monitor, where the credits for the news broadcast scrolled quietly across the screen framed in a background shot of the incident at the park.

"You don't think that the incident in the park has anything to do with Janet?" turning back to look him in the eyes.

Jack stood there, his arms crossed over his chest. Quietly he thought to himself as he took in the displays from each monitor in turn. His eyes constantly darted to the TV monitor; its coverage of the local news now replaced by regular syndicated broadcasts.

"Hmm, Major? Oh that, well that's pretty strange to hear on the news; that a mugging would end in a decapitation, now isn't it?" Jack said, as he stroked his chin slowly.

With a sigh, O'Neill turned toward the door the small command center. He paused and turned back, "Carter, I want you to call over to Area 51 and make arrangements for security around the X-302's to be doubled for the time being. I don't want this snake hitching a ride in one of our birds."

"Understood, sir," she said, moving toward the secure phone.

Opening the door, he paused, "Oh and Major, I want you to grab at least 8 hours sleep and by sleep I mean a bed, not that chair. I'll have Teal'c come relieve you at 2300 hours" he walked out into the corridor, shutting the door.

Strolling down the hall toward the elevator, the niggling little voice in the back of his head returned to the event in the park tonight. Pressing the button, he stood there rocking back and forth upon his feet waiting for the elevator; all the while the little voice kept drawing his attention back to the mugging.

When the doors finally opened, his little voice would not be assuaged; sighing Jack jabbed the button.

…

**Denver  
Palace Hotel Room # 317 – 8:10pm**

The bathroom was misted in a damp fog from the shower. As she washed the last scents of the fight, and what she could only assume was very old Kung Pao Chicken from the back of her neck; the hot water did little to soothe the turmoil that was slowly consuming her.

_A mortal… and he knew my name…_

Shutting off the water, Kallisto stepped from the shower stall. Moving to the sink she picked up a soft white towel and wrapped it securely around her waist; bending down to pick up a garbage bag that was now stuffed with the tattered remains of her clothing, she slowly into the living room.

With the small black garbage bag in hand, she stopped and stared at the lone television set. As she moved to the nightstand for the remote control, she glanced at the time. Setting the bag at the foot of her bed she thumbed the power button; as the sounds of some mindless sitcom filled the room she started to flip through the range of channels finally finding a local channel's news coverage.

'… police are keeping a tight lid on the details behind today's brutal incident in the park. The victim, Jonathan Winters, is said to be in surgery at the moment. A spokesperson for the hospital said that his condition is considered critical but they believe that he will make a full recovery. Live from St. Joseph's Medical Center in Downtown Denver, This is Allison Flad. Action 5 News.'

As she stood from the bed, the remote dropped to the floor. The words from the reporter barely filtered through her mind, there where only two things that where able to permeate her chaotic mind… Jonathan Winters and St. Josephs Medical Center.

…

**Le Blues Bar  
Paris, France – 3:45am**

"14… 15…16… 17… 18 … and these two make it an even 20" Joe quietly spoke to himself as he finished up the inventory on the latest delivery from his distributor. Carefully he closed the cardboard box and leaned against his cane, silently reviewing the clipboard resting on top of a nearby case of vodka.

As he checked off each item a soft creak caught his attention. His head slightly turned, he listened again… '_squeak'_. Joe set the pen down upon the clipboard and with a skill that would have surprised all that first met the disabled man, silently made his way across the storage room; stopping at the door, he peered down the small hallway connected to his office to the storage room.

With a touch to the small of his back he felt the reassuring presence of his Beretta, granted the Police would frown on his possession of the sleek black firearm, but his mama didn't raise no fool. Besides, being a Watcher was a dangerous way of life.

Once through the doorway, he silently traveled down the hall. With a pause, Joe gently pushed open the half closed door. Glancing inside the source of the disturbance comes into view the slim form of his friend, and former co-worker, seated at his desk silently scrolling through his computer.

"Methos…"

"Good Morning Joe… wonderful set tonight."

"What have I told you about using my computer?" Joe stated in an exasperated tone, slowly entering his office.

"Something about it not being a rolodex. I promise you, I'm not looking for anything to use to my advantage with 'The Game' Joe. Just curious to see where our overgrown Scottish boy scout has run off to," said the elder Immortal with a dismissive sigh.

"Well, you could have skipped the James Bond routine and just asked," replied Joe as he leaned both of his hands on his cane, a bemused look upon his face.

As Joe slowly meandered closer to his desk, he noticed one of the files that Methos had opened and was browsing through. "That's not Duncan's chronicle you're going through," he said leaning over to tap the escape key, the opened file vanishing from the screen leaving only the desktop in view.

"Oh that, well it just sort of popped open by mistake Joseph," he replied with a slight smile upon his lips, his demeanor neither repentant nor ashamed at being caught in the act.

Joe's stony gaze let him know just how much his charity was welcomed.

"Truly, I didn't want to bother you over something so trivial… I was thinking of you having to run this club and such."

"There is such a thing as privacy Methos," Joe sighed; rubbing his hand thorough his short grey hair.

"Privacy, Joe? You're a Watcher… Pot… Kettle… I think you can see my point, you really aren't one to lecture me in this regard," replied the Immortal with a rather smug grin on his face.

"You said you where looking for Duncan… the whole point behind your little 'act of charity'," he said with an annoyed sigh and a wave of his hand as he glared at his friend.

"Yes… I need to ask Duncan something, he's not at the Barge and the Manager at the Dojo hasn't seen him in months so…" he decided to further irk Joe by giving too much attention to a trivial Watcher report on his desk.

As Joe leaned over, he roughly slapped close the open folder; Methos, with a childish grin, grabbed up a random memo and made a dramatic show of reading it.

Before he could utter a very choice litany of swear words, Joe's cell phone interrupted with a shrill ring. While fishing the slim black phone from his pocket with one hand; Joe managed to balance on his prosthetics for a moment, while swapping his cane from one hand to the other, allowing him to grab the memo from Methos's hand.

"Dawson!" he barked into the phone, as he glared at the smug smirk on his unexpected guests face. The voice on the other end of the line cooled his ire slightly.

"Hey Ben, No… no everything's fine, just dealing with a pest," he said with smirk directed toward the elder Immortal; shifting into a slightly more comfortable standing position, "How's everything at Regional?"

As he listened, an uncomfortable ball of lead settled in his stomach "What happened, any idea how bad he is?" Joe asked.

"Uh huh…that's good, where is he?" Joe asked as he leant over the table to grab up a pen, quickly writing on an errant scrap of paper.

"Yea got it…what else can you tell me…?" The smooth flow of his writing came to an abrupt halt, letting the pen drop from his fingers he stared toward Methos for just a moment before turning around.

"Christ… no Ben, she's has been out of circulation, as it where, for some time," he said so engrossed he didn't take notice of Methos slipping out of the desk chair and coming to stand off to his side.

"Keep me in the loop Ben; we need to get a new watcher on her as soon as possible and we need to talk to John as soon as he's stable. Ok? Alright, bye," he sighed and flipped the phone closed with more force then necessary, followed by a haphazard toss onto the wooden desk.

Adjusting his cane, Joe slowly made his way out of the office and toward the bar.

"Joe… I might be wrong but I doubt that call was Ed McMahon you of winning the Publisher Sweepstakes," he said trailing behind his mortal friend.

Walking further into the dark and quiet room, Joe made his way around the bar and fetched up two glasses and a lone bottle from the myriad that adorned the back wall. Without a word, he poured two generous shots of bourbon. Pushing one glass before Methos he hefted his glass and, with a quick silent toast toward Methos, downed the fiery liquid in one smooth swallow.

Methos's stood there, confusing and concern warring for dominance inside him. Taking a seat at the bar, he cradled the small glass of amber liquid in his hands.

As Joe poured a second shot for himself, the bottle was set roughly down upon the dark stained wood of the bar. The glass held in one hand, Joe silently contemplated the liquid; hoping that, like Nostradamus, the secrets and mysteries of what was about to unfold would be revealed in the mahogany depths.

"Trouble, Joe?" Methos asked softly, taking a small draught from his glass and letting the smooth liquor work its way down his throat.

Joe paused for a moment, "That was Ben, from the North American Regional Office," staring deeply into the half full glass, "It was about John Winters. Seems he was mugged while in the park, whoever did it stabbed him,"

"Is he…?"

"No," he sighed, "they have him listed as critical. They're sure he'll make a recovery…" He spoke, his gaze still upon the contents of his glass.

"I sense that there is a 'But' to this little tale?" he asked, taking another small sip of his drink.

"One of the Muggers," glancing up from the amber liquid toward the elder Immortal, "had his head cut off."

Sighing softly, "Do they think…?"

"At the moment, we don't know what to think or where she is," he whispered softly, then tossed back the second shot.

…

((More to come.))


	15. 15

**((Alright sorry for the time delay but: 1.) Didn't realize that the Guidelines had changed; I've been a fan since '96/'97 an member since '01, so the copy of 'Entropy' that was under the 'Stargate SG1' tab in Television section was deleted; 2.) My computer has been giving me problems but thankfully none of my story or notes where compromised, hence the delay. **

**So other then that I hope that all of you that enjoy reading this are still able to find this enjoys… and thanks for the reviews. And I am very humbled by the calls for me to write faster. But I am trying to be more methodical and proofread every paragraph before posting, since I have no Beta help at all. Also I will try to post more often but alas this is just a hobby and not my main career.**

**I know that some have said I picked an unrealistic age for her… well I felt that the age was a good one for the kind of personality that will reveal itself as I move further into this story… on another note… I am NOT Drawing on 'Highlander: The Raven' OR any of the Movies past the First one with this story… yes I will bring Amanda into the story but that whole Raven TV series, from my POV, soiled a wonderful genre and the same can be said with most of the Highlander Movies save the first one… also Richie is still dead, that was one of the best plot twists in the original series, yea it sucked but if you're like me when you saw it you went 'HOLY #BLEEP#'))**

**((coughReviews Pleasecough))

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**Colorado Springs, Colorado  
Stargate Command -- Level 25 Locker Room – 8:50pm**

Jack stood silently before the standard dark blue locker, his back toward the open door as he finished tying his shoe. Sighing, he straightened up and turned around facing the locker reaching inside for his leather coat.

The sound of booted footsteps broke the silence of the room. With a slightly confused expression upon his face, Dr. Daniel Jackson rounded the corner, coming to a stand still at the far end of the locker isle.

"Jack?"

While glancing back from the opened locker, Jack pulled his coat from the hook within the locker. "Get dressed," he said, slipping his arm into the weathered leather jacket, and then turned back to the open locker reaching in for his wallet and cell phone.

Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, Daniel stood still for only a moment, before moving down the narrow row of lockers; from experience, and the sign's he could read from Jack, he wouldn't be getting much in the way of information.

"Uh Jack, mind telling me where we're going?" He said, starting to pull off his olive drab BDU shirt, while quickly dialing in his combination.

"Denver, now hurry up. I need to go see the General, meet me up top in 10 minutes." He said, slamming the door to his locker shut and giving the combination lock a quick twist.

Daniel stood there, before his open locker. With a quiet sigh, he silently started to change into his civilian clothing.

…

**Downtown Denver, Colorado  
Corner of 18th & Humboldt -- 8:55pm**

Slowly walking down the street, Kallisto rounded the corner for the sixth time in the past 30 minutes. Coming to a stop directly across from the main entrance to Hospital, she moved close to a lamp post and glanced around at the faces of the people who populated the street.

Her hands where buried deep into the pockets of the simple navy blue pea coat she wore. To those passing by it would only appear that she was desperate to fight off the harsh chill of the night, the lapels turned upward shielding her face from view; in reality she had sliced open the right jacket pocket; even now her hand was securely wrapped around the solid weight of the Browning Hi-Power held across her side. Her leather trench coat, ruined earlier, lay in a tightly bound heap along with the rest of her bloodstained clothing, buried in an industrial dumpster several blocks from her hotel.

The thought of being without her sword at hand left her feeling naked, but at the moment she held more fear of the lone mortal now lying somewhere within the stark white medical building. And the simple pea coat was not long enough, given her slight frame, to conceal the length of her blade; the Hi-Power and dagger would suffice.

Moving from the corner, she walked slowly up the block toward the large parking structure directly across from the main hospital building. She stopped at the corner; the paranoia that had been festering within her was assuaged for now.

She slowly walked around, losing herself within the crowd, waiting for the signal to change; slipping in-between people carefully, using the mass of bodies to hide from view. As the light changed, and the mass of people surged forward, she allowed herself to be carried, like a leaf upon a stream, directly into the main hospital entrance.

Once inside, she slipped silently into the white-walled maze of the building. Stopping before a directory kiosk, she pulled up the hospital map and studied it. Calling up another screen, she scrolled through the department list. Finding the number for ICU, she pulled out her cell phone and quickly punched the number into the phone. Calling up a few more pieces of information, she turned and walked toward the nearest bathroom; the phone slipped back in her pocket.

Making sure the bathroom was empty; she went to each stall and pushed open the door, before finally stepping into the last stall in the row. Shutting and locking the door behind her; she pulled her cell phone out and leaned against the wall of the stall, lost in thought.

She needed more information before she tried… what she was going to do, she honestly did not know, but he had information and she needed it.

Thumbing the 'send' button, she brought the phone to her ear.

…

**50,000ft over St. George, Utah  
Watcher Learjet N7894 -- 9:03pm**

The silent hum of the twin Pratt & Whitney engines were the only sounds heard in the confines of the simple passenger compartment. The two individuals barely speak; silently they flip through the various reports and Watcher journal entries regarding the Immortal known as 'Kallisto'.

"We're crossing over Utah, our ETA should be around 10pm in Denver." said the pilot over the intercom.

"So what do you think, Faith?" Breaking the silence finally Alexander Lehane, a new graduate of the Watcher training academy, asked his partner and training supervisor as he shutdown and set aside the laptop he had be engrossed in for the last hour.

A slight smile graced the petite brunette's lip as she regarded her 'probie'; unlike Alex, Faith Harris was literally 'born' into the Society of Watchers; a rarity since the wherewithal to be a watcher was a natural born instinct and hardly ever learned. It required a certain metal to spend your life in shadows, watching and documenting a breed of people some of which where older then the countries they dwelt within; and could be as deadly and sadistic a some of history's worst murders or madmen.

Closing the worn leather journal she had been reading she drew in a slight breath before speaking. "How dangerous do you think 'Kallisto' is Alex?" she said, her head resting against the back of the leather chair.

"Honestly... her Journals portray her as a rather sedate and stable Immortal" he said, placing his laptop on the empty seat next to him "I'd say she was a minimum threat."

Opening her eyes she turned to look at Alex, a sad smile upon her lips "You're right, to a certain extent… while her Journal's portray her as one that rarely play's 'The Game' anymore or even looks down upon mortals, that should not lead you to discount her as a threat;" turning back to stare off into space, her fingers trace over the pattern of the Society's emblem that adorns the rough leather bound Journal upon her lap "but she did not get to be as old as she is by being a shrinking violet, Alex. A good rule of thumb, as my father told me, was that once an Immortal hit a millennium, to approach them with as much of a 'hands-off' policy as possible… because they have an ingrained survival sense that, to you and me, would seem to border on paranoia."

Alex looked toward Faith for a moment "So this isn't going to be easy is it?"

"Nope, not in the least; never let it be said that being a Watcher would be dull occupation. In fact 'probie' you are about to hit the ground running I think."

"Do you think she attacked her Watcher?" he asked.

"We'll see what John has to say. When we get to Denver, first things first; we check in at the Hospital then while you watch John, I'll head over to Kallisto's hotel and see if our wayward Immortal is still there and if not, where she went" she said, setting aside the large book an leaning her chair back.

…

((More to Come))


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